


Obsidian Skies

by etoilephilante



Series: four love stories on a two-faced earth [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: (if you want pecision on the temporary character death ask me), (they will get their own spinoffs rn blink and u will miss them), Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Background Relationships, Bling Villager!Jongho, Corrupted Royalty, Corruption, Dragon!Wooyoung, Epic, Fantasy, Frog Prince!Hongjoong, God!Yeosang, Grey World/Characters, Healer!Yunho, Human Sacrifice, M/M, Magic, Priest!San, Sacrifice, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Temporary Character Death, Violence, Witch!Mingi, dragon folklore, jongjoong, made up religion, made up universe, other kpop idols will be mentioned, prince!seonghwa, seongsang, yungi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilephilante/pseuds/etoilephilante
Summary: He barely had time to see Wooyoung open his eyes wide with a confused glance that San, probably out of exhaustion, crushed under the weight of a body ruined by multiple lunar rotations spent in hunger, thirst, broken bones and bloody limbs; probably overwhelmed with so much raw power surrounding him, felt his tongue choke him and his eyes roll back inside his skull and fainted.(When the puppet prince Seonghwa is sent to the water realm and kills a man in his attempt to steal a precious jewel from the Sun god, Yeosang, the latter orders one of his disciples, San, to leave for the earth realm and give that jewel to Wooyoung. San finds himself trapped in the middle of a raging war after he was almost sacrificed to a sacred volcano.)
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Series: four love stories on a two-faced earth [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643887
Comments: 13
Kudos: 40





	1. The Creation of Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> [This is a repost because i'm a huge dumbass who accidentally orphaned his work. i hope the people who decided to follow this fic will see this. the original post is there https://archiveofourown.org/works/22464340/chapters/53676268 ]
> 
> hi so i think i have A Few Things to talk about here before u start reading, more like warnings. first of all, this is a world i made up, so if anything is confusing, don't hesitate to ask me, i will gladly answer (unless it's something that's going to be explained later lmao), if you look at the end notes there's an explanation of how time works in that universe, and some other useful stuff, i think you can read the chapter without issue if you decide to ignore that explanation, but well if you're like me and get bothered by coherence. here you go
> 
> i'm going to try and post a chapter at least a month, bc while the storyline is already written, the chapters in themselves aren't, and well, all five chapters are big boys and i also have to work for uni so yeah, well. point is, expect AT LEAST a chapter a month. 
> 
> you might have noticed that this story is part of a serie, this is because when the "main" story is completed i will write three spin offs abt the side relationships bc well, i can't talk too much abt them in the woosan bc a lot is already going on.
> 
> lastly, you will notice there's a lot of action in this first chapter, there's going to be a lot of action in all the chapters, but i feel like it's a lot for a first chapter, honestly i tried to lighten it, but since this is a made up world/religion i wanted to make sure the reader had everything needed to understand perfectly the story.
> 
> i think that's all i had to say, so please enjoy!
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS : someone gets murdered, some violence, some blood, mention human sacrifice and almost human sacrifice

_The universe started with nothing more than never-ending, floating, and colorful power. Then it took the form of an effervescent star, the gargantuan burning Sun that reigned alone. Bored, the Sun wanted to create more and made an infinite field of shining stars – never as bright as the first star was, but just as talkative – so for a while, the brightest star was not swimming in boredom._

_But it did not last. The power it felt in its core was too big, too massive, and it was curious. So were born planets, similar to stars, but oh so dependent on them, and so much more vibrant. They did not shine, and they did not talk a lot, but their hearts were burning hot, and they started to create life as well. The other stars were too selfish, they liked to watch small celestial bodies rotate around them like a perpetual dance, they never encouraged their planets to create life, they just illuminated the black horizon._

_And the Sun watched, fond, oceans rock blue planets, fierce winds yell at big ones, it observed the smallest one as well, shier, colder, slower looking back at the end of the line, maybe too scared to grow near the other biggest children. But as they orbited calmly around the Sun, as the giant sparkly star was lulled by the constant noise of frivolous stars, quiet planets, protective satellites, and the immense infinity talking, it noticed something strange with the fourth planet. It had created more, and in thousands of rotations around the Sun, things started moving on a smaller scale._

_The Sun looked at its child painting with green and blue on its body, looked so much and so often that it forgot about the rest of its creations to focus on the prodigy. And as the Sun failed to look at the entire universe, tragedy was bound to happen._

_There was chaos, and there was pain, and the Sun watched its small child suffer, burning down to ashes before it started healing and becoming even more robust. And slowly, the gentle Earth started painting and shaping life again, with the company of its new friend, the silver and tiny Moon. But the planet remained forever changed as it could not dance anymore, stuck sadly facing the giant star as it turned around it, while its other half met a constant ball of pretty constellations._

_Billions of rotations later, the Sun had let the delicate Earth grow and watched the universe expand with the help of the power it held in its own heart. But once again, the brightest star became curious, and after watching the small humans, the same way the never-ending colorful force took the form of a star, part of its power took the form of a man._

_When he stepped a foot on its ground, it was as a man who shook the poor Earth, a man whom humans recognized from the stories their quiet planet spread, a man whom they titled the sun god and named Yeosang. Yeosang noticed the lack of control and the disorder ruling Earth's side that had never known a night._

_Then, he went to the side that had never known a day, ruled with calm, oceans reflecting maps of galaxies and serene creatures swimming under the moonlight. He found the highest mountain in the center of that realm. Resting at the top of the mountain, an idea emerged from within, and Yeosang – as the stories would call him – moved the earth realm to mirror the water realm. The sun god decided to give a chance to the beautiful planet he birthed, which worked hard to build itself, desiring to see it expand and thrive instead of drowning in chaos a second time. All this precious life, so delicate and small in the palm of his hand, needed to be protected._

_Five continents were born, all unique and full of landscapes that were a delight to the eye. For a few thousand years, all was well. Creations after creations, humans birthed from an ambitious planet, itself birthed from bored constellations, created their own lives, their own art. But Earth was an unruly child, alive and prone to tantrums. As peaceful as the water realm – where the sanctuary of sorts Yeosang made for himself rested to quietly watch over the universe – was, the realm full of landscapes was destructive and kept on shattering the peace every time it settled upon the five kingdoms. The Sun, heart moved with pity for these living beings too weak to resist the volcanoes that ruled upon the lands, left his mountain to visit the core of his precious child to get answers about the tumults shaking human lives._

_The sun god learned a lesson that he decided to keep close to his mind: imbalance would cause destruction. If Yeosang neglected the universe to watch carefully over one child, chaos was bound to happen; if Yeosang graced only one side of planet Earth with control and power, chaos was bound to happen. The Sun was a force that could shake the cosmos with his mere presence. If Yeosang wanted to reside and watch over this infinite garden of constellations from the peaceful and never-ending nights of the water realm, the god needed to create balance._

_Five mountains stabbed through the waters, four of which encircled the highest and most impressive one; symmetrically, five volcanoes ruled over five kingdoms. Taking a bit of his core and uniting it with the small planet's own heart, the Sun for the first time ever since he made a field of shining stars and dancing planets and let them go as freely as they wanted, actively created a new form of life. Beings similar to him, in power and in the role, deities he modeled to be the link between cosmos and life, bound to the planet's core, guarding over volcanoes, satiated by sacrifices._

_Dragons. If the sun god was a colossal presence over the universe, dragon deities, lesser than the original creator, were still titanic to the fragile people who cultivated lands around these monsters said to be protectors._

_These new deities were created powerful enough to tame the volcanoes, and the volcanoes paid dragons back by assuming the role of being their Fountain of Youth. On Earth, valuable things were given in exchange for something else worthwhile. The volcanoes and their deities ensured protection upon the kingdoms at their feet, providing them with fertile lands, gemstones, gold, all the wealth needed to expand and flourish. But that came with a price: one life given by the core of Earth must be given back._

_Yeosang understood staring down at the universe that his creation was a constant cycle. He wondered if he stopped it, would it collapse? Attached to his subjects, he was not yet bored with them and kept them rotating, kept these billions or so cycles going._

_Dragons drew their powers from two sources: the skies and life. Humans – life – were Earth’s creation, destined to be returned one day or another to it. The skies were the Sun’s creation, manifestations of small parts of their sculptor’s infinite and explosive power. Satiation came in two shapes: being fed with lives, every new cycle, and a bath in the stars’ lights._

_But dragons were ruling over lands that ignored starlight. Thus the sun god created a link between the deities and waters that ignored daylight. Uniting life and skies, Yeosang chose humans with hearts pure enough to please the stars and made them messengers between the cosmos and dragons. Temples were erected at the bottom of volcanoes and mountains, doors to this two-faced planet, where priests burned incense and exchanged with the universe. Temples where deities descended to revitalize their core during sleeping hours before ascending back to the top of their tame mounts…_

*

A loud noise cut San off, and the child he was whispering stories to startled in his arms. "What was that?" she said sleepily, looking up – worried – at the priest. San turned his sharp eyes away from the door, not wanting to worry the young girl he was looking after and smiled down at her.

"Nothing, I'm sure, you know how the High Priestess is clumsy, she probably fell," he lied with a gentle but mischievous smirk. "Close your eyes, it's bedtime, sweetheart."

“But I have so many questions,” pouted the small child. San laughed quietly.

“You always have more questions and more reasons to avoid sleep. One question and then it’s bedtime, it’s already late.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Choose your question carefully, you won’t have another until tomorrow.”

The little girl stayed silent for a short while, a focused frown on her round and chubby face. Suddenly her big eyes widened: “If dragons come to our temples to see the stars, why haven’t I ever seen one, senior disciple San?”

He snorted softly, before beckoning her closer, a secretive look on his angular face: “Because you’re too small, smaller than their claws.” She looked up, wonder smeared on her face.

“Really? And when I’m bigger than even you, will I?”

San traced her small nose with a thin finger, "Only one question, we said. Now close your eyes, maybe you will see them in your dreams."

*

Seonghwa put a wobbly foot on the first step of the marble temple as he felt the golden Sun's eye following him from where it was carved on top of the portal. Rubbing his palms against his thighs, he sighed and opened it. Was it the prospect of discovering the night sky that made his heart race and jump inside his ribcage? Or was it the fear of offending the gods with his greed?

No matter what, no matter what awaited him at the end of the line, no matter how disgraced he would be, he would do it. It was his only choice. Fear could tear his insides apart, he could not let it stop him.

He gripped with strong and calloused fingers the sword tied at his hip and stepped through the imposing and blinding portal.

For a short while, he felt like every nerve in his body was vibrating, then nothing. At first, peace. Everything was so quiet, he wondered for a moment if he was dead. Then, the echo of water drops resonated within the empty walls of the shrine.

It was a few minutes before his eyes – used to constant light – gained their sight back in this place illuminated only by torches at each corner of the room. When he looked up, his breath got lost at the bottom of his throat. Above him, no roof, only a vast and black sky with golden freckles.

Seonghwa almost lost his mind as he discovered for the first time ever what exactly was night. Coming back to his senses, he turned his dizzy eyes to the altar and slowly walked closer. Kneeling, he decided to light incense, thickening even more the musky fog floating above the altarpiece. “I am sorry.”

Steeling his heart, Seonghwa got up. He had worked on that mission, so much he knew precisely what to do next, where to go. Without having ever seen the water realm's main temple, he knew each corridor and hiding place as if he had erected the temples himself.

The necklace was resting in a simple box, hidden at the lowest point of the building.

The temple was deserted, lulled by waves' sound, but he felt like he was the only man to ever walk through these freezing hallways. Walking with silent steps through the intricate labyrinth, he knew where to go to avoid the priests occupying the place and communicating with the skies.

But his luck had to run out at some point. As Seonghwa finally reached the stairs leading to the treasure, he felt his back tense as he heard steps near him. He turned around to see an old priest looking at him with surprise distorting his face. “Who are you?” he asked with a voice croaking from old age. From the deep blue silk robe draped over his shoulders and the heavy chains around his neck, Seonghwa deduced the old man was one of the High Priests.

“What a pain,” Seonghwa sighed. The water realm’s people – closest to the sun god – were not violent, but their loyalty could not be broken. The priests of the Sun were not mere humans as they were given the gift of magic when they chose to get the _Priests Oaths_ tattooed on their chest: this gift was only for those worthy of their god’s trust, sealed with an unbreakable vow of loyalty.

The higher a priest reached, the more powerful their core grew. This old man would probably not kill Seonghwa, but he would keep him from going further. He needed to think and fast.

He just had to get to the jewel and give it to His Highness and get his free pass to freedom. There was never a question of hurting anyone. Seonghwa tightened his grasp around a sword and unsheathed it. He just had to knock the priest out or keep him from moving.

Rushing forward, Seonghwa aimed with the back of the sword's handle at the man's temple. But despite moving fast and playing on his opponent's surprise, the priest reacted more swiftly, pushing with his palms against Seonghwa's chest. A shock wave froze him, and he felt himself fly backward until his back hit the wall. He heard an uncomfortable crack and a throbbing pain coming from his ribcage that almost paralyzed him. Yet, he got back up with the iron taste of blood pooling in his mouth. With the commotion it caused, more people would come soon. Desperation eased his pain and feelings.

With a renewed confidence and expert moves, Seonghwa threw himself at the priest once again, even faster than before, not hesitating once and this time aimed at the back of the old man's knees. As he was expected at the front, he twirled at the last moment and struck with his blade, cutting through the tendons. The man collapsed, and Seonghwa stayed motionless for a moment, out-of-breath.

As his senses were coming back to him, breathing started to be painful. He had to finish this. But when he was about to continue, a firm grip around his ankles tripped him, and he fell down, hard. Seonghwa choked down an agonizing scream.

Determined, the priest crawled on top of him. Seonghwa lost his sword during the fall, and the man wrapped strong hands around his wrist. Soon, noises came from a few corridors away, and Seonghwa struggled, as desperate as a trapped dog. His ribs hurt so much, he felt like going insane. Stretching his fingers, he tried to reach the handle of his sword.

"Stop that, there is no way out, you still can hope to be forgiven if you stop now," the priest almost begged with a benevolent look on his face. Seonghwa choked on tears – from the pain or from the guilt he would not know – and struggled harder.

When he finally reached his weapon, he gritted his teeth and broke his wrists free from the priest. Pushed by adrenaline, he managed to knock them over. He just had a second to see pity in the old man's eyes before he stabbed through his chest on top of the priest.

With a shaky breath and bloody hands, Seonghwa felt nauseous as he removed his sword from the old priest’s chest, staring into the dead man’s dull eyes. He felt like puking his heart and lungs. Gripping the hilt of his sword tighter with his soaked fingers, a deafening buzz in his ears, he felt cold sweat dripping down his neck. Could he ever forget the wet noise of blood dripping down from the blade to the ground?

With heavy legs, he eventually made his way downstairs, missing steps here and there.

The room – more of a cave – was mostly empty. The walls were made of the same rock that founded the mountain, untouched and unchanged by human hands, humid, grey, covered in moss. The stairs – more and more slippery as he descended into the cave – led to a pool of water. There was only one small stone plate in the middle of the pool, seemingly floating a few centimeters above the water, where a wooden chest rested. It was there. Freedom and answers were there, inside the chest.

Seonghwa looked down at the clear water, so bright it reflected on the walls, despite the lack of any lights. He had to swim to get to the necklace, but from what he knew of the sun god, he was a meticulous being. A jewel that could guarantee power over the earth realm could not be so easy to access.

While he was wondering what sort of creatures and monsters swam in these waters, a voice echoed within the cave walls. "There are no guards in the pool," it whispered. Seonghwa jumped, startled, and looked up. Sitting on an invisible throne, there was a man. He trembled. A man who sported a sardonic smirk on his face. "No guards, only prisoners." The sun god laughed.

He looked imperious. Seonghwa forced himself not to choke and throw his body on the ground and bow down to the image of Yeosang. Instead, he gritted his teeth and stared straight into the god’s eyes. “Well, there is no prisoner yet, but you could jump in and become the first.”

Ignoring the god, Seonghwa turned his eyes back to the chest to see it opened. The necklace inside was impressively crafted. Made of gold and gemstones, he could see a representation of the Sun’s court, a delicate chain from which were hanging planets, stars, and satellites, in colorful diamonds. But as beautiful as the necklace was, its impressiveness did not come from its craftsmanship. It came from the sheer power that emanated from it, blinding, dangerous.

"Aren't you jumping? Well, time's up!" Yeosang made a quick gesture with his hand, and the jewel flew to his hand, barely looking at it. "Um..." he suddenly looked deep in thoughts while trailing his eyes down Seonghwa's figure, grimacing at his bloody hands and sword. "Pretty face, should I keep you? Would that annoy this king of yours who thinks himself worthy of overtaking me?"

The last thing Seonghwa processed was the feeling of drowning.

*

When San made sure the little girl was sound and asleep, he got out of the bedroom and entered chaos. Young priests and priestesses were anxiously looking at each other and trying to understand what exactly was going on.

The young man fidgeted with his sleeves and made his way through the hallway, smiling with the most comforting smile he could show to the younger disciples. He made his way to the main hall, where all the elders were reunited near the altar, debating loudly. As soon as they heard his steps, though, they all turned their hawk eyes towards him. "Oh, disciple San, we were going to ask for you, come over here," said the Light-Bearing High Priestess. Definitely his favorite elder, a clumsy woman whose hair was always a mess, contrasting greatly with her peers' refined looks.

"How may I be of help, elders?" he asked, bowing politely, then getting closer, trying to get a better look at the chest they were gathered around. "What is happening?"

“Listen, my child, you will have to listen to me and do as we say, and not panic,” one of them told him. He remembered the man as the one who engraved the _Oaths_ on his chest. “The Lucky-Star High Priest was killed.”

San's eyes widened, and his heart tightened. As much as the words were painful to hear, he suddenly felt like lost in a dream. This elder had brought him up, taught him everything he knew, shaped him into the disciple he became.

He once said San was his biggest pride. He gritted his teeth and tried to focus on what he was being told. Emotions were not the priority at the moment.

“Why..? How..?” San asked with a thick voice.

“There was an infiltration,” San’s eyes widened with disbelief. “The first King sent one of the Princes to rob the _Celestial Jewel_.”

“How presumptuous,” snorted the High Priestess. “What is worrisome is that the Prince knew without a mistake where it was.”

“Meaning there’s a spy amongst us...” realized San, shocked.

“Disciple San, have you ever left this temple before?” suddenly asked a quiet, mean-looking elder, the Silent Hall’s Master.

“Huh? No, no yet. My first outing has been scheduled in seven lunar rotations. The Lucky-Star elder promised me...” he cut himself off, overwhelmed with emotions.

“What are you trying to imply, Master?” said with an inexplicable frown the High Priestess.

"Well, his brother... it is hard not to be suspicious in these times," he replied as San was staring confused at his two elders glaring at each other.

“My brother?” his voice cracked halfway through his words. San grew up resigned to forget any hope of ever seeing the faces of his family ever again. The disciples of the Sun were who he learned to see as family. “How is Prince Seonghwa involved?” he asked. Did he have any right to call his brother a brother when they were strangers?

“Master of the Silent Hall, the Prince has never expressed interest in his brother,” San gritted his teeth, his fingers still fidgeting under his silky sleeves. “Please don’t involve this disciple when the Sun himself chose him.”

Wait, what now?

The elder quieted his accusatory words down with a closed-off expression. San was lost, not knowing whether to laugh or to cry.

“Please elders, what is going on exactly?” he almost begged for answers to his thousand questions.

“Your first visit to the earth realm has been brought forward to now,” a booming voice replied from the room’s entrance. San turned around and immediately bowed to the sun god.

"Greetings, Lord of the Universe," they all said in unison, their heads down.

“Rise,” Yeosang allowed the room before laying his black eyes – oh so similar to the skies above them – on San. “Huh, I see it runs in the family genes.” He smiled. “You will take this jewel to the first kingdom.” San frowned – more and more confused – while all ten elders in the room spluttered. A few voices could be heard, protesting: “But it’s his brother”, “the king is dangerous”, “Is that really safe?”.

Yeosang let them talk as he quietly made his way to the chest. San did not know where his mind went, but he felt like he was watching things happen as a spectator instead of a protagonist. Putting a palm on top of the wooden box, Yeosang looked back at this small crowd of followers who immediately quieted down.

“The place they will never come looking for it is the closest to them.” He then gestured to San to come closer. Still feeling like he had no control over his body and mind – or the entire situation, really – San stalked forward. Yeosang opened the box when San was standing in the middle of the circle of elders, in front of the god. Under their eyes, the dazzling necklace appeared, handled by the god, with not so much care despite its beauty. A carefully weaved pouch appeared in Yeosang’s other hand, in which he dropped the universe’s treasure.

"I made it to control over the dragon deities in case they got greedy with power. Instead, humans disappointed me first. Oh, well," San swore he saw a pout on Yeosang's face while he was contemplating the pouch. "As the eldest disciple, San has been chosen to take this to Wooyoung, in the first kingdom." Yeosang smiled at San, and the disciple felt a rock drop in his stomach: why was the god looking at him with anticipation glinting in his eyes?

San was sent to a small house at the edge of the forest encircling the first kingdom's capital. He had yet to see the golden country as it was called after the massive bottomless gold mines that made this kingdom one of the richest of the realm. San was shaking with anxiety as he felt hidden against his chest, the pouch's embroideries.

The young priest felt a little weak after the very short trip from the water to the earth realm. They usually traveled from a realm to another with portals that connected all the temples dedicated to the Sun, but Yeosang deemed it too risky. With a snap of fingers, San blinked, and before him, there was this wooden house and no sign of his god, elders, or home.

In this small cottage lived apparently a human Yeosang trusted even though he was no priest. San made his way to the house's door, running a hand through his hair, his eyes burning with fatigue, unused to the Sun's strange brightness in its primary form. He knocked once, softly. No answers. It was only the third time he knocked, a little harder, and asking loudly if anyone was home that he heard shuffling inside. He backed away a few steps when the door opened, startling even if he expected it.

“Who’s there?” asked a round-faced stocky man with bed hair adorning his head. San immediately noticed him looking straight away, just a little above his own head, with unfocused eyes.

“Um, are you Jongho?” San asked with a timid voice.

“Who’s asking? During sleeping hours at that?”

"I am San, a priest from the water realm, I was sent here by the universe's Lord!" the priest answered quickly, while the blind man frowned. A frog suddenly hopped on his shoulder, and he flinched.

“I see.” Jongho turned around and went back inside his house, and San for a second did not know what to do, frozen at the door looking down at the frog sitting on his shoulder.

“Who are you?” he whispered to it and only got an ugly croak for an answer.

"Are you coming, or will you sleep on the porch?" asked Jongho from somewhere San could not see, and with quick and nervous steps, he eventually followed the human, closing the door behind him.

“I have a frog on my shoulder...?”

“Ah, yes, that’s Hongjoong!”

“Hongjoong...? You have a pet frog?”

At that, Jongho came back from what San assumed to be the kitchen and went to another room – in which he followed him – a plate with a set of tea in his hands. "Of course, it's not my pet frog. This is the southern kingdom's prince."

San blinked. Was this man crazy? Had he been sent into the house of someone who clearly did not have all his head? He figured it was better to stay silent.

"We're waiting for Mingi, this stupid witch," continued Jongho, serving tea while San watched a little fascinated as the young man moved with expertise despite his blindness. "Ah, sit down, but not on the armchair, that's Hongjoong's favorite spot." San looked down at the frog, which was already looking up at him, almost defiant. Intimidated by this incredibly small frog, he obediently sat on the couch, and Hongjoong jumped on the armchair's cushion.

“And who’s Mingi?”

Jongho paused briefly before taking a cup in his hand and giving it to San, who quietly thanked him. "An evil witch, he gets drunk and transforms people into all sorts of stuff," he pointed a finger at the frog. “And then leave for another couple of months, if not years on adventures!” Jongho took his own cup and started sipping on it, not flinching at all at the hot beverage when San could barely stand its heat in his hands. “So why did Yeosang take you here? What happened this time?”

“Does the Sun send you a lot of people?”

"Huh? Ah, no, not really." San blinked, staring at Jongho, who kept on sipping on his tea, and then glanced at Hongjoong who was again already looking back at him with his judgmental little eyes. "So why are you here?" asked Jongho again.

“I have something to deliver to some guy? Wooyoung?”

“Wooyoung?”

"Wooyoung, yes, do you know who he is?" San was hopeful because he himself had no idea who this "Wooyoung" could be.

“I do.”

San waited a few seconds for Jongho to continue and elaborate, but understood quickly enough that he would not get any more. “So...? Who is he?” San tried to remember the fundamental values he was taught to have as a disciple: patience, benevolence, and composure. But a raging flame lived in his heart as he felt this lunar rotation to be more and more absurd.

"A deity." San, who just took a sip of his tea choked on it, feeling a drop run on his chin.

"A what? A deity?" He stuttered, eyebrows raised so high they almost disappeared in his hairline. "And how am I supposed to deliver a package to a deity without getting noticed? I haven't even started my training, I just took the oaths, my core is probably the size of a chickpea!" San gripped Jongho's thigh in his panic, speaking with a high pitched voice. "My master just died, and I have no one to teach me how to grow my core, and oh Sun, my master was killed by my brother," his voice cracked mid-sentence, and tears suddenly started pooling in his eyes as he realized what had happened earlier.

It was like a fever dream, three hours at most passed since he left the young girl he was reading to, but it already felt so far away. He felt like just three hours ago, everything was okay, and then the whole universe just stopped spinning in its axis.

Jongho turned slightly to face him, but San did not see him anymore. He hiccuped, and tears started to fall on his cheeks, his heart tightening so hard in his chest he could not breathe anymore. Taking a hand against his chest, he grasped at the blue robes covering him. Emotions suddenly drowned him as they hit him with the same power as the tsunamis shaking the horizons of the water realm's oceans.

The reality of the situation dawned on him. He would never see the Lucky-Star Master ever again, they would never spend hours drinking tea and reading to each other. His teacher would never correct his calligraphy, teach him about the underwater creatures, or recount the legends of their world again. San suddenly felt like there was a gaping hole inside of him. And his brother, why? Why would he do that, who had he become during all these years?

He sobbed, feeling like a small child, a wholly abandoned child. Fear and anxiety blurred out any rational thoughts in his brain. He was always conscious of how little he was in this world and suddenly felt like the god he had grown worshipping threw him in an angry sea with nothing but a broken lifebelt to help him, expecting of San to be bigger than he was.

He flinched as he felt a hand softly rubbing between his shoulder blades and the feeling of a fist gripping and tightening around his heart lifted like a charm; he suddenly and inexplicably calmed down. San's cheeks were burning red with the remnants of tears, and he looked up to see Jongho and his unseeing eyes hovering above him with a sympathetic smile, while he tried to regain control of his lungs.

“Ah, sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he said with a contrite look on his face.

"What was that?" San asked, in a broken voice, relieved at the feeling of oxygen filling his lungs. He took a tissue from his sleeve. His heart slightly squeezed in his chest again. He traced the embroidered constellation on the cloth he had been offered by his master and wiped his cheeks with it with a shaky hand, reveling in the warmth of the brief memory of a birthday quietly celebrated with encouraging words.

“Just something small I can do,” Jongho replied, moving aside to put some space back between them.

“Are you not human?”

“Oh? Yes, I am. My mother wasn’t, though.”

San nodded, suddenly embarrassed by his show of emotions that submerged him as fast as it was put to a stop. “I’m sorry about...” he vaguely gestured, remembering last-second Jongho could not see him and felt his cheek warming up. Hongjoong hopped on his knee, an understanding look in his weirdly expressive eyes.

“Panicking? Do not worry,” Jongho replied softly, taking the forgotten cup in San’s hands, getting up to empty it in a potted plant under San’s baffled eyes, and then going to a shelf not far and filling it again with a purple beverage. When he gave the cup back to San, the priest blinked at it.

“What is this?”

“Yunho made it, it’s plants. And some other things. It will ease the ache in your heart.”

San looked at it with a suspicious frown. When the frog nudged his hand with his head, like an encouragement, he eventually brought it to his lips. The purple liquid tasted surprisingly sweet, like cinnamon and roses. For a few minutes, then there was just silence where San felt himself getting numb as he forgot about the emotions twisting his insides before Jongho softly spoke out.

"I can help you with the mission if you trust me," he said, folding his hands on his lap, leaning forward, like he was ready to share a secret.

“Do I have any choice? The sun god trusts you...” Jongho smiled.

“I know you’re a priest, but you should not trust Yeosang,” he laughed. “I know how to get you to Wooyoung without raising suspicions.”

San arched his eyebrows. “You do? How?”

“You have to be sacrificed to the volcano.” San almost dropped his cup.

“What?”

“Ah, but you won’t really be sacrificed. Wooyoung won’t let you when he feels the jewel.”

San opened his eyes so wide they almost fell out his eye-sockets. “How do you know?”

“It’s easy to know when you learn how to recognize Yeosang’s presence.”

“And how do I get sacrificed to the volcano?”

“Oh, this is the easiest part, actually,” Jongho only replied with an ominous smile. San swallowed, apprehensive.

They had to wait for half a lunar cycle before putting Jongho’s plan in action.

San was out of the delicate layers of vibrant fabrics he was used to wearing at the temple. Jongho had carefully folded his robes hidden in a place free of dust and humidity and instead lent the disciple incredibly itchy, muddy brown clothes made to work on fields. San realized how used he was to being coveted, that his smooth skin was bright red at the beginning of sleeping hours when he got out of these clothes, from rubbing against rough textures.

San made his way through the market crowds, watching with wonder the red, yellow, and blue lanterns hanging from the small houses. The capital was a lovely city, full of colors, buzzing with the noise of commoners loudly calling for customers and wealthy noblemen quoting poetry to the delicate beauties hanging at their arms while walking around the busy streets. San looked enviously at the candies a young maiden slipped between the hands of the small courtesan walking by her side.

Jongho had said today was the perfect day to cause havoc in the capital and get noticed. The golden festival – which happened amid every lunar cycle – celebrated the dragon deity who protected the Centre Kingdom and the wealth the gold mines laying under their feet brought them. It was the moment in which the royal guards chose in the crowd who to sacrifice to the volcano, from what Yunho had told them.

Yunho was a tall and soft man he had the pleasure to meet during this past half cycle and learn he was a healer who liked to tend to the people's need, in his country or other kingdoms, and was particularly favored by the royal family. The healer wasn't one to chose sides, at no one's service but his own, but like Jongho, he liked to help the sun god – if he judged the goal in line with his own beliefs. He readily enough agreed to help him by revealing that the sacrificed was chosen amongst rebels – usually during the festivals, where they were most likely to disturb the crowds.

The Sun's disciple finally arrived at the capital's main square. The clowns and musicians were entertaining the people clapping around them or lazily sitting at the terrace of the luxurious inns and courtesan houses encircling the square. From where he was, San could see better the peak of the gigantic volcano just a few kilometers away, surrounded by the tall golden royal palace. It looked so exquisite, he could almost smell the odors of rare flowers and see the taste with which each pavilion was built – and the sophisticated ebony temple that mirrored the one he grew up in.

Rubbing his knuckles against his forearm, uncomfortable in his hessian clothes, he kneeled dipping a hand in the dirty mud at this feet, smearing it on his face and ruffling his hair. He needed to look like trash and move the crowd by showing a side of the kingdom that was not as prosperous as the capital. He did not know of poverty, but Jongho told him about the small villages scattered in the forest and even after, full of miserable people who ruined their health at the service of a king greedy for wealth. Despite a gracious facade he presented to his court, the king was never as tempestuous as when he noticed the smallest sign of disturbance and rebellion upon the kingdom he bragged as the most peaceful of the earth realm.

When San spotted the royal guards at the entrance of one of the inns and two others watching over the capital from the highest terrace of the inn, _oh so this is where the royal family is dining right now..._ priest thought. Perfect, this made it easier.

The plan was such: San was supposed to stir the crowd by denouncing the Centre Kingdom's unfairness, claiming to be a mine worker who lost his family because of the negligence of the king. The guards would immediately try to stop him and get rid of him, with the annual sacrifice coming in three lunar rotations, he would surely be chosen.

Taking a deep breath, he jumped in the middle of the circle of spectators, interrupting the clowns in their scene of a mockery of the deceased northern dragon, depicting her as a greedy monster. The tambourines stopped while the people ceased to applaud, watching the dirty man who stopped the festivities with confusion. He immediately noticed the guard staring straight at him from the corner of his eyes, watching his every movement.

He dropped on his knees, landing harshly on the ground, and with the most heart-wrenching cries he could manage: "People of the capital, please, I beg of you to look at me and listen to my pleads! Please, listen to my unfair situation, I’m just a simple man who watched his family die at the hands of this phony king you are all bowing to and laughing with!”

San heard a few gasps from the spectators, noblemen looking away with disgust smeared on their faces, children hiding behind their mother's skirts, while some others were looking down on him with pity shining in their sorry eyes. He noticed the guards on the terrace sending a quick sign with their heads to the ones standing at the inn's entrance. "The royals are assassins! We work all our lives to bring you wealth, and we get paid off with illnesses that are killing us all in our sleep! When will the remnants of my family, when will I die like a dog because all of you assassins turn a blind eye on us!"

A foot landed on his back, and he fell forward with a wince. "Assassins! Murderers!" he repeatedly yelled while the guards were handling him down. He struggled for the show but did not make any efforts to get away when the guard crushing him down tied his hands. San continued to scream while they were dragging him away, noticing hiding in hidden corner Jongho with Hongjoong the frog on his shoulder. When he looked up at the edge of the terrace was standing the king looking at him in all his glory, red and tick shiny layers of silk draped over his shoulders, a golden dragon weaved on his chest and a twitch at the corner of his thin mouth. _Success_.

For three lunar rotations, San was left alone in a humid and cold cell after being thrown there without a word from the guards. He had cowered a little at the laughter of other prisoners seeing this newcomer relieving them of the burden of being the next sacrifice.

Hidden against his chest was the elegant pouch with the necklace, which he felt vibrating with power, even though the bag did conceal most of it. Waiting for the sacrifice, he stayed in the corner of his cell, back straight, fighting hunger and boredom by meditating and reciting in his head his temple's principles and odes written by scholars to the Sun.

The time finally came with the rough fist of royal guards dragging him up and pushing him through the underground prisons. Pain stabbed through his skull as they reached the entrance and day blinded him after this many lunar rotations spent in darkness. Two priestesses were waiting a few steps away, and the guards unceremoniously threw him before them and left, leaving him at their hands. San bit his lips at the sting of his raw, bloody palms and knees after being thrown around so much. One of the priestesses helped him up with soft touches, and San sighed at the feeling of gentleness he hadn't even noticed he had been missing ever since he got sent away to the earth realm.

"Elders," San bowed with respect, and the two priestesses slightly recoiled with surprise. "Please lead me to the temple. I will explain, do not raise suspicions."

They did so, each a hand on his shoulders. The disciples of this temple stood with the same postures as those San had been used to seeing all his life. Still, their clothes were brighter, stark white, weaved with golden threads, and their forehead ornamented with gemstones but neck bare. In contrast, the priests of his temple were usually dressed with simple dark blue silks and silver laces, head and hair bare of accessories, but necks decorated with pearls.

San was taken to a room behind the main hall where – no words ushered yet – he was undressed and put in a warm bath. He eventually opened his mouth after the two priestesses backed away when San refused to let them wash him, to do it himself. They looked at him with curiosity barely concealed in their pupils, eyes traveling between the oaths tattooed on his chest and the pouch carefully lying on a small table at the center of the room.

“I have been sent here to deliver this to the ruling dragon Wooyoung, by the Brightest Star,” he begun while the smallest of the two priestesses – a pink-faced young girl – gasped and the other one – taller, tanner and colder looking girl – nudged her with her elbow. “I cannot raise suspicions as your king attacked the main temple of the water realm.”

“What?” gasped this time both priestesses.

“I need to be the next sacrifice to talk to Wooyoung,” San ended.

“But, the water realm's people can’t be sacrificed!” exclaimed the smallest with a worried frown. “You took the oaths, which means your core is too similar to the stars for the volcano!”

“Oh no, do not worry, I am not really sacrificing myself,” smiled San gently, feeling he was back at the side of the kids he liked to take care of. “This object I’m delivering is too precious, the ruling dragon will have to keep me alive.”

He got up, and the tallest priestess immediately came closer with a clothe in her long fingers for him to dry his body. He felt lighter now that all the dirt covering his skin had been cleaned off, and the peculiar scent of flowers emanated from him.

San let himself be led through the ritual and the sacrifice ceremony, not knowing what to expect. After he had been covered with linen robes, way lighter than all the layers he was used to, bare of extravagance – no headpiece, no jewel around his throat – the two young priestesses took him in front of the altar, where incense was burning along with offerings. The clothes he had been given were too light to hide the pouch, so he gave it to the tall priestess who protected it in his sleeve, ready to give it back when the right time would come.

He stood barefoot in the hall, the sole of his feet numb against cold tiles and the tip of his toes rubbing against a cushion. The royals and noblemen were sitting inside the temple on their own cushion behind him, and he could hear the noise of the capital reunited at the bottom of the building. San lied bent down in a full bow, feeling like a tiny mouse being watched by predatory and colorful birds, even though the two priestesses were at his side, also folded in a bow. The High Priest, an old bear looking man, stood before him.

He recited all the mantras, prayed to the Sun, and softly poured a river of water sparkled with sunflower petals on his head and back. San shivered, feeling the liquid soak the linen clothes, starting to stick to his skin and the humiliation that came with the white fabric becoming transparent, taking the same golden color as his skin. Nudity in front of his peers did not make him feel ashamed, but the heavy sensation of all his weaknesses being revealed to men smiling at a ritual celebrating his imminent death made him shake.

The whole ceremony went in a blur as San let himself be manipulated through it, trying to ignore how wrong it felt in his core to offer humans who did no wrong but ask for fairness to angry magma boiling inside monstrous mountains. The young disciple tried to shut the primal instinct in his insides that yelled at him to struggle and gritted his teeth. He could feel the king burning holes in the back of his head.

*

When Seonghwa opened his eyes, he was suddenly submerged with the impression that his whole body was tied. Mind foggy, he tried to move, without success. He internally winced when he heard somewhere in the room the strident grinding noise of steel. Where was he? What happened to him?

Looking around despite the room being blurry, he noticed a few things: he was in a luxurious place. The walls were covered in rare artifacts he had heard of but never seen even in the treasure room of the palace of the wealthiest kingdom, the yellow light was subdued and the place steeped in reds and tans looked warm but was freezing cold. So cold it felt like his bones were ice inside his skin, so cold his every joint were ankylotic. But what struck him the most was the frightening impression that he was minuscule, like he had woken up in a giant's house.

Seonghwa was inexplicably sitting in the middle of a chess set, staring straight at a white knight.

“I see you’ve come back to Earth,” declared a voice he immediately recognized and instantly dreaded. Seonghwa turned his head to see Yeosang sprawled on an ebony cathedra, smirking down at him, Seonghwa’s lost sword between his hands.

The god ran a nail against the blade, and the same unnerving grinding noise echoed in the room, creating a spark and Seonghwa curled up on himself.

"You're confused and scared. It's a delicious smell on you," Yeosang said, chuckling. He stopped playing with the sword, setting it aside carelessly, and extended a hand, making a small silver pocket mirror and putting it opened on the chessboard's edge. Seonghwa looked up at the god, then at the mirror, catching a glimpse of white scales and a long tail. Lowering his head, eyes at his body's level, he realized these white scales were _his_. He opened his mouth to gasp, but only a small and weak hiss accompanied by a tongue flick came out. Seonghwa shriveled up even more, making himself more insignificant than he could possibly get.

His entire body was trapped inside a snakeskin. It felt like cold, rusty chains were wrapped around him, tightening at each one of his moves. The prince was scared, he felt at the mercy of a predator, without anything to fend it off.

It was another failure. Seonghwa would have preferred for the god to punish him by death than making him face the reality of the situation: he missed his last hope of ever finding answers or freedom. And now, the only thing he had left was the weight of his own guilt.

"What could push a prince to devote himself to such a useless mission? Is the palace so boring you have decided to jump to your death?" Yeosang asked, mocking him. "The Northern Kingdom truly is cursed to have a poor lineage." It may have been because of the loss of hope, the knowledge he had nothing to lose anymore, the awareness he would not come out of this alive no matter what the future held for him, that Seonghwa – overcame with rage – jumped to the Sun's throat, slithering his body around it and squeezing with all his strength. But despite the choke-hold Yeosang was into, he only softly laughed at the naive attack and gripped Seonghwa just under his snake skull, so tight he had no choice but to let go of the god's neck at risk of having his body crushed to dust in this delicate but powerful fist. Yeosang restrained Seonghwa at an arm's length, watching him with an eyebrow raised, scrutinizing the snake with his dark night sky eyes and golden pupils. Seonghwa did not feel the pain from the grip, it was sweltering power that emanated from the fingers digging into his thin scales that convinced him that the shadow of death was near this time.

After a few seconds, though, Yeosang flippantly threw him aside, and Seonghwa landed on the ice-cold checkered tiles. Excruciating torture ran through his body as he felt his aching bones and joint twist, making his heartbeat so fast it almost stopped. But when it calmed down, still breathless, he felt immense relief as Seonghwa did not feel the chains restricting his body anymore.

It took a while before the prince noticed it was because he was back in his own skin, crouched on the floor, entirely naked. His bony hands were supporting him, and tears started pooling in his eyes at their sight. Shaking, he sat back on his calves, his toes curling up against each other, and took one of his hands to his chest, hesitantly running his fingers against his skin, stopping a long second above his heart, letting himself enjoy his own pulse under his fingertips.

The sun god got up, Seonghwa's forgotten sword back in his hand and came closer, hovering above the prince, who kept his head down. Yeosang laid the sword flat between Seonghwa's shoulder blades, carefully observing the curve of his spine against the steel, bones slightly peeking out under the man's shivering golden skin. The god bent a knee to the floor, lowering himself to be at eye level with his prisoner. With the index of his free hand, Yeosang forced Seonghwa's chin up, tilting the sword so the edge would directly press against his carotid artery.

Seonghwa kept his eyes closed as he waited for whatever fate his god had planned for him. "I'm not killing you," Yeosang said, to Seonghwa's surprise. He opened his eyes to see the unexpectedly serious face of this gold haired, child-like image of the Sun. Chocolate brown irises collided with these otherworldly eyes into a battle of stare.

Seonghwa felt helpless sitting here, like each one of his weaknesses was out in the open, as if Yeosang could see right through him. Being naked in front of that man who could make a toy out of him was not scary, it was the feeling of his soul being sized up through this eye contact that made his guts twist and turn inside him.

Eventually, Yeosang let go of him, getting back up. “Trying to kill Wooyoung, now the _Celestial Jewel_ , what does your king want? What do you want?” He asked, imperiously looking down at him, the tip of the sword having replaced the finger under his chin.

Guilt flared up again in his stomach. “I don’t know...” He whispered pathetically, rising desperate eyes to the Sun. “I don’t know of His Highness’ schemes, I have never been told and never cared about it.”

Yeosang stayed silent for a while, appraising him. Then he lowered the sword and discarded it back aside, humming and turning around to sit in his throne of sorts. Seonghwa crossed his arms against his chest, slouched, as the freezing draught twirling inside the room seeped into his shivering skin. “Then, why?” Yeosang spoke again.

“This is the only way to buy freedom and,” Seonghwa cut himself off, digging nails in his flesh. “And to obtain the right to visit the fallen kingdom.”

Silence fell again upon the room, where Yeosang rested his head against the palm on his hand, watching the prince.

"The Cold Kingdom's people were beautiful, and it didn't spare its last descendants," he said off-handedly. Seonghwa's eyes widened. "These soft snow locks are so rare nowadays that only a small strand of hair is considered a treasure."

Seonghwa took a hesitant hand to his hair. "And yet rumor is we bring bad luck," the prince murmured. He could still feel the sting of jabs about his fallen kingdom, about how ominous their mere presence was to the other nations, the shivers that ran through his body every time noblemen tried to convince the king to depose him. Seonghwa greeted his teeth; he could still feel the numbness overcoming him as he realized the king was keeping him as a pet more than as a prince.

"Prince Seonghwa, have you met anyone from home in all these years?" The Brightest Star asked an enigmatic look on his face like he was curious to see a particular reaction from Seonghwa.

He frowned. “No, I was told to be the only survivor.”

Yeosang inexplicably laughed out loud. “You’re really a gullible little thing, hm?”

The white-haired man tensed, ashamed at the jab, looking away and once again crossing his arms against his bare chest, like it would protect him from this apathetic god.

“Black hair and a streak of white, does it ring a bell?”

Seonghwa startled, the small face of a young boy in a school uniform hanging at his hips and angrily screaming for him to stay appearing before his eyes. He pursed his lips together, an unpleasant taste of iron filling his mouth.

“I guess it does,” Yeosang continued, looking satisfied at his reaction. “You want to find him?” Shaking like a dry leaf mistreated by harsh weather, the prince gazed up at the god, red-rimmed eyes confusedly set on Yeosang’s face, waiting for answers. “How unfortunate that you decided to defy me, now I don’t really feel inclined to give you this. But you could always earn it,” he finished with this predatory smile of his.

Seonghwa opened his eyes wide, his heart dropping to the bottom of his stomach. He collapsed like a ragged doll before the sun god.

*

San was not given shoes when they started the ascent to the highest point of the volcano. The inhabitants of the capital were left at its foot, where the sacrifice festival took place, they ate, drank, and sang, hoping for the appearance of the ruling dragon. Simultaneously, the royals and their entourage followed the priests and him on the sinuous roads.

The High Priest with poise painted on his wrinkled face led the march, followed by the two priestesses, all three of them walking with ease despite the steep slope. Behind them, San was struggling, the sole of his feet bloodier and bloodier as they climbed, burning against the stony path, he could feel the lava boiling under him against his flesh. He could feel himself get feverish with pain, the linen clothes he was given still sticking with flowery water and sweat to his back. He felt pathetic and dirty.

The shame squeezing his heart was being amplified by the knowledge that sedan chairs were following close behind, crushing the bones of palace slaves. San’s heart was racing so hard it felt like it would stab through his ribcage because of exhaustion, and at the same time, it felt numb with horror.

The ascent was interminable.

San felt his lips get chapped with thirst drying his mouth. He knew it had to be done, he had to get through this, but his guts felt like being ripped off from the fear and the terrifying realization that this was how it felt to walk to your own death.

It felt like being watched with hungry smiles, full of sharp teeth, like going and going and going while everything in his head was screaming at him to flee, to run away while he still could. But he could not. He could not, the same way the miserable subjects of a power-hungry king could not escape from this unfair fate, he just could not escape from being thrown into the middle of conflicts that opposed forces that were all ten times his size.

Even if his legs were two seconds away from giving out, his feet so raw and burnt, his neck reddening under the cutting rays of sunshine, he could not choose to run away and hide behind the altar of his god like he used to when he was just a small toddler, barely reaching the knees of his master, scared of all these strangers who were hunting him down with rules he could not understand. He wanted to go back in time, to ignore the present, to turn a blind eye to the world and go back to kneeling behind wooden tables in a vast, familiar library pavilion where he read for whole afternoons books about the universe, sitting next to the warmth of a man who grew him like a colorful flower and watered him with gentle praises.

San closed his eyes, clenching his hands in tight fists, if all this could be a long, scary nightmare… he wanted to wake up, having fallen asleep a child in his arms while he was reading bedtime stories. To get up quietly from that bed, perhaps shaken by this dream that had seemed never-ending and sit at the edge of the temple's highest balcony to watch mermaids swim and sing lullabies to him.

But no matter how much he prayed, he was still walking this morbid path.

He felt a tear run down his cheek, his heart tightening as he thought about all the previous victims of the universe, of this cruel kingdom. San might well have spent so many hours reading the stories behind the creation of life, admired this god who had wrought out the most beautiful artwork, prayed to stars for all the deities reigning upon this two-faced planet, he caught his mind being invaded with resentful thoughts on behalf of lives lost to an unjust cycle that was bigger than all of them, mere ants in the eyes of the Sun.

It's almost with relief that San saw after hours of climbing a small stone temple just ten or so meters away. It might have been that breath of relief that caused his body to yield to the weight of pain, and his legs dropped under him. The young disciple did not even notice he was laying, all bruised and dusty on the heated soil until two cold hands grasped his shoulders, a wobbly little voice whispering apologies in his ear. He was helped up, the sunlight even brighter than before, his ears made deaf by a thousand of imaginary flies buzzing around the crown of his head, and led to the open temple.

The five sedan chairs stopped. The royals and their closest entourage got out, fanning themselves with pouts that displayed such annoyance as if they had been tired by this trip as if they were suffering from the heat the volcano's mouth exhaled and twirled around them all like vengeful ghosts.

San was lowered into a bow at the center of the round temple. The king, the crowned prince and the young and tiny princess hanging at her brother's pant legs settled on their – probably a lot smaller, but still tastefully crafted – thrones, were watching him like they would watch a play, comfortably seated and entertaining their minds. Their entourage was not seated, but they watched with the same terrifying interest, standing behind their king.

The High Priest chanted new prayers to the volcano and Wooyoung. San – motionless – could not help the terror that invaded him as he glimpsed at all these people who looked abnormally apathetic to this entire process. The High Priest recited all these beautifully written words with a benevolent smile like he was blessing San. The two priestesses were standing with an almost unnoticeable frown on their delicate faces, but not because of this ceremony. It was because San had the fortune of being one of their peers. They were hurting for him because of all the cuts and wounds on his body, not because they could not stand to see it on the other people they had served like meat, but because they knew this was the starting point of changing – perhaps for worse – world.

San understood: they were used to it. They were used to these atrocious acts.

The voices in his head that had whispered and yelled at him to run while his hands were not tied, all stopped. He put his palms flat on his lap. The way he had imagined life, coveted in the water realm, was wrong all along: life was not all beauty, the imbalance was not without damage, giving life back to Earth was not a gentle process. It was just defenseless people having no choice but to agree to be a victim of the greater good.

_So, this is the infamously peaceful golden kingdom_ , San thought, looking up at the azure sky.

When San was made to get up again, being carried up and down so repetitively, it made him even dizzier. Following a long bamboo carpet, the old priest walked forward that spread out a path from the temple to the edge of this dreadful cliff. However, he did not go all the way, stopping and stepping to the side, obviously encouraging San to take the lead to his death. Surrounded by the two gentle priestesses only a step behind, he somehow tried to walk eyes staring straight ahead, head raised high on his shoulders, his bloody feet assured. He pretended to trip only when he knew they were far enough, and the two priestesses rushed to him, helping him up.

Discreetly, the tallest one, chest against his arm, her shoulder hiding their ploy took the pouch from her robe and slipped it in his hands. It only took three seconds, before they had all straightened up as if nothing at all had happened.

A few steps later, just five or so meters away from the gorge's steaming edge, the two priestesses stepped aside and stood head's down, letting him continue alone.

Hands gathered against his chest, gripping between his shaky fingers the silk, so hard if it was any typical pouch probably that it would have ripped. When San took his last step before the jump, not daring to look down, he let out a broken sob he did not even know he had been holding back.

"It's okay, it's okay," he started repeating to himself with a thick and trembling voice. He barely had memories from his childhood before he was taken to the Sun's temple, but the noise of boiling lava exploding inside the volcano, the feeling of a hostile force, chaotic and ready to destroy everything, took him back to his last day at his family's side. He hiccuped, pierced by fear-induced needles all over his body.

Closing his eyes, he clutched the jewel again. And jumped.

The fall crushed his bones and guts, it was fast and hot. It felt like it would never end, and for a few agonizingly long seconds, minutes, perhaps even hours he thought his heart stopped beating even though it was beating so fast in his chest, it almost spilled out his mouth. He grasped at the pouch like his life depended on it – and it did.

A Loud and impressive – even louder than the steam whistle inside his ears – roar rumbled inside the pit. And suddenly, he landed on a solid surface and felt himself going up. All the oxygen in his lungs left with the shock of his head slamming against the dragon's muscular and scaly body. Opening his eyes, lashes wet from tears he hadn't known had spilled, he breathed out a sigh of relief.

The deity flew them in a cave hidden inside the walls of the volcano's crater. Without really processing what was happening, soul hovering above his body, he was not lying on the dragon's back anymore, but being carried in strong arms and then gently put down on the floor. The priest tried to stand up, in vain, his knees collapsing under him. But the same strong arms embraced his waist and kept him up, pressed against a hard chest.

After a short moment, he got out of Wooyoung's arms, still shaking like a leaf, but aware enough to stare at the deity.

"This is for you. From the Sun. To keep it safe." San whispered, softly taking one of the dragon turned man's hands and flattening the pouch against his palm.

San barely had time to see Wooyoung open his eyes wide with a confused glance that San, probably out of exhaustion, crushed under the weight of a body ruined by multiple lunar rotations spent in hunger, thirst, broken bones and bloody limbs; probably overwhelmed with so much raw power surrounding him, felt his tongue choke him and his eyes roll back inside his skull and fainted.

At the tip of the fire mountain, royals were drinking with pleasure painted on their face the most exquisite wines under the blank eyes of the disciples of the Sun, when a humongous dragon with emerald-green mixed with ruby-red obsidian scales emerged from the crater of the volcano spreading a deafening silence on the crowd, gently laying San before them and resting threatening eyes on the king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) i tried to mix different types of religions i know in this made up religion, because i didn't want to force completely eurocentric aesthetics into my fic, but i did want to separate this universe from the real one, anyways. ethnicity, religion, culture, etc is not the same as the ones on our actual earth, even if of course inspired by them.
> 
> 2) which kind of leads us to the last names. no one has one. it's also because seonghwa and san turned out to be brothers and well! they don't have the same last name. i changed last names with titles (you can see it with the way the high priest.esse.s are called i guess, the titles refer to family or land owned, so the wealthy usually are the ones to have titles. 
> 
> 3) while writing my first chapter i realised our time system could Not work, so i had a massive breakdown before i finally figured a way to make something that look at least a bit coherent. so basically :  
> \- earth has one side always facing the sun, which basically means that it spins on itself once a year (the time it take to rotate around the sun), so this is a year. i've decided to call it like we do because i am : lazy  
> \- a month is a lunar cycle, inspired by the real lunar calendar except that well, it's not the same bc for the people of this fic the moon never changes forms. so i have decided it's determined by moon's proximity to earth. also a month is called a lunar cycle  
> \- a day is a lunar rotation (around earth), it has 24 hours but they don't count it like that, they divide it half with the lunar hours (daytime, when the moon is on the earth realm's side) and the sleeping hours (night-time, when the moon's on the water realm's side). and then hours are determined depending on moon's placement in the sky.  
> \- hours, minutes and seconds are otherwise the same.  
> did all that make sense, scientifically wise? absolutely not and i probably made cry some scientific minds! but i'm sure it looked scientific enough for most of u that i lost u enough for u to decide u will give me the benefit of the doubt!!
> 
> Thank u for reading, i hope u will keep enjoying my fic. 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/mingiopom)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/etoilephilante)


	2. The destruction of the Cold Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The deity laughed, and proceeded to wrap a strong arm around San’s thin waist, forcefully swinging him around. His breath got stuck at the base of his throat, once again covering his mouth with his fingers to hold back a gasp when Wooyoung pressed his chest against his back – his heat barely contained by their clothes, a blush spreading on San’s cheeks. His heart was threatening to explode inside him, as Wooyoung’s fingers brushed his hand and then slithered from his jaw, along his neck, tickling his collarbones through his robes, grazing past his chest, to his hip, slightly tightening the grip around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me : i'm going to try and post a chapter every month  
> also me : is a month late on the first update
> 
> hi! you'd think that being quarantined i'd have time to write my chapter, but it looks like life is full of surprise and procrastination! i'm sorry because not only i procrastinated way too much but this chapter is also shorter than planned - i ended up deciding that the last scene would fit better in the next chapter, ANYWAYS.
> 
> wooyoung is a bit more present in this chapter and he's a confident gay! 
> 
> again if anything feels confusing, just ask me ! i hope nothing is tho. This chapter contains a lot of information dropping again, but starting from the next chapter there will be more actions, i just needed to give all the necessary keys for the plot to somewhat make sense. 
> 
> i will try and not procrastinate as much to put out a nice chapter by next month! i hope you will be enjoying this one.
> 
> WARNINGS : big bad wolf king wants to eat little sheep San, no one answers to San's questions pt.2, hhhhuuuuuuhhhh some hearts get pulled out of some chests?, sexual tension, mentioned stray kids' hyunjin

_Chaos did not always come with loud screams and instant fright. It had been slow, like an agonizing breath of pain, it had been air shifting ever so slightly that no soul had noticed it until it was too late._

_Once, there was a vast country, covered in a stark white snow blanket, the most prominent kingdom on Earth. The Fifth Kingdom, a cold northern land, was the youngest, and yet its wealth, power, and beauty were so grand its only rival was the golden kingdom._

_Each lunar rotation thousands of people would come to visit the beautiful capital that surrounded their volcano and its deity – a goddess praised for her gentleness and fairness by her people, who bragged without stopping about her exquisite beauty. Each lunar rotation hundreds of noblemen and women would come to visit the dreamy palace that bloomed like an impressive flower at the cold volcano's feet, drinking the rarest teas within glass walls that reflected sparkly snow and skies so clear that the horizon line was indistinguishable. Each lunar rotation dozens of princes and princesses would smile at the virtuous Snow-Tempest family's enthralling children, trying to catch their eyes._

_The cold kingdom was not a fertile land, their soils frozen, and their flora very small, it still attracted greedy and envious eyes from all sides. If hunting and farming were made almost impossible, the Fifth Kingdom's fauna and flora were made of animals and plants that only lived and grew on these lands, which made them luxuries. If this country could not rely on such resources, their adored dragon provided them with the most precious, colorful crystals and stones. If some countries would depend on what their ruling dragons gave them, this snow-covered land's people would craft the most demanded and delicate artworks, raising them to the level of the oldest and most powerful kingdom, the Centre Kingdom._

_The crowned prince was liked by his people, showing his face to them so often, even the lowest subject felt essential to His Highness' eyes – it was why when the crowned prince made a mistake out of greed and led his kingdom to its doom, he still came out of it as a hero._

_His mother, the queen, never ruled her kingdom to make it powerful, simply ensuring her people were safe and her country thriving, but the prince was not like her. Her Majesty was getting old, weaker every passing day, and the prince knew that soon he would be sitting on her throne. Impatience and thirst for power were boiling in his heart, so one night, he secretly ascended to the top of the volcano. He called for the deity who lived there, and the benevolent dragon never ignored anyone who came to visit her, so it was not long before she emerged from the snow-capped mountain's crater._

_She was immediately amazed by the beauty who stood before her, kneeling before her with the purest eyes she had ever seen._

_The prince had shivered under the beast's red eyes, his heart beating fast with the prospect of reaching behind these immaculate white scales and getting his hands on what would guarantee him and his kingdom an infinite power. But he hid his nefarious schemes behind the gentle smile he had learned could trick even the wariest soul to ever face him._

_The goddess was a gentle soul, who easily trusted soft and charming words, who wept for the subjects who willingly came to the edge of the volcano and nourished it out of devotion, suffering from having to take from the people she provided and protected. It had been no difficult task to whisper smooth words to her and give him her whole heart._

_Without her ever suspecting anything, the crowned prince returned on a particularly cold morning to his bed and pretended a heart-wrenching panic when his attendants came to his bed to get him ready for the day. Horror plastered on his face, looking livid, he cried about an ominous dream and pleaded to be led to the temple, for he had to speak with the High Priest._

_Each royal family had a reason to be ruling. The Snow-Tempest family were notorious for their dreams, always taken as seriously as a prophecy. So, when the crowned prince sat in front of the High Priest with such a distressed face, no one thought twice before believing his words, swallowing his fake fear and making it into a genuine fright._

_Word spread that the Northern Kingdom’s dragon had gone mad and asked His Highness for ten people to be sacrificed to her volcano. The queen, weaker than ever, was lifelessly laying in her bed, helpless as she tried to convince her son whom she knew more than herself to come back to his senses._

_And when sleeping hours came to an end, a freezing and ominous wind blew on the capital as the crowned prince became king, and his mother breathed her last sigh._

_The cold kingdom’s people wholeheartedly believed the young king when he promised to protect with this innocent smile of his and anticipation stirring his guts he visited the deity again._

_She welcomed him with a happy smile, sitting at the edge of the volcano, when he embraced his arms around her thin shoulders, kissing her skin, his nose against her long silky hair. He smiled devilishly behind her back. “Is the country facing some issues?” she asked with a curious voice, looking at the lava under her feet._

“ _The queen has passed," he feigned deep sorrow, and she raised a hand to his cheek, silently apologizing._

“ _Ah, this explains why the disciples of the Sun looked so… silent when I visited a few hours ago. The High Priest was shaking. Her soul will be missed."_

_The newly crowned king frowned a little as the dragon raised her head to the Sun. "I will miss her the most." Hearing the orphaned king's words, the goddess felt pain spread in her body, never noticing she was being deceived, she led him to her lonely palace inside the depths of the mountain._

_She gave him everything she thought he needed, love, comfort, warmth. When he asked to see her original appearance, she hadn't even thought about being caught in a trap._

_Dragon gods showed two forms to their people, their impressive and powerful dragon skin, and the shape they took to look like humans. But when they emerged from the star that birthed them, they had a primal appearance, raw and the most vulnerable that they were taught to hide._

_Wanting to please the man she thought loved her, she bared herself to him. An enticing creature stood before him, woman and dragon at once, white scales glowed on her almost translucent skin, horns stabbing through her skull, claws as sharp as knives, and elegant wings flapping behind her._

_The king swallowed down his fear in front of this new woman and smiled at her, filled with disgust as he saw love in her red eyes. She immediately took the hand he raised for her, her bare chest against his, and they kissed._

_He had always wondered why dragons' raw forms were their weakest, but as he discreetly grasped at the handle of the dagger hidden in his boot, his fingers touching the tender skin of her neck, he understood. Their skin was so thin a nail could break it._

_He reveled in her gasp as he cut through the veins on the side of her neck. He had been so fast that she hadn't even registered what had happened, taking a hand to her neck as dark blood spilled on her skin. Backing away in panic, she opened her mouth, and no sound but gargling came out. The goddess looked at him, heartbreaking, betrayal tearing her face apart, her wings struggling behind her._

_Before she could try and defend herself, the king smiled and finished his task._

_When he descended back to his kingdom, an obsidian heart that mirrored galaxies in his hand, he claimed to have defeated the greedy goddess that had gone rogue, the entire earth realm bowed to him._

_Nobody in the Northern Kingdom had realized their hero had awakened the volcano's rage. However, when winds picked up, when snowstorms became more and more violent, ravaging everything in their way, a new kind of fear overtook the kingdom. When the temple prayed for the Sun god and faced silence, the nation wept._

_It was a slow process. The other kingdoms stopped visiting the cold and beautiful country, the mines that provided them with wealth collapsed, and their crafts could not be traded because the roads were all destroyed._

_The prosperous kingdom saw its people die of hunger, their splendid architecture ruined by storms, and after three lunar cycles, Yeosang stepped a foot in the Fifth Kingdom's palace and looked down at the greedy king that had led his people to their death. "You deserve your punishment, may the likes of you suffer from the consequences of your foolishness."_

_And eventually, the volcano had erupted, burning, drowning, swallowing everything. After three long lunar rotations, chaos fell to silence, and no life ever breathed again on these lands, leaving only a mourning volcano behind._

*

San opened his eyes, confused. He had no idea where he was, his mind foggy, barely emerging from hours of sleep. He groaned, his limbs heavy and sore. He sat up, joint cracking painfully, and looked around. He had never seen this room before and wondered what he was doing here.

The room was simple enough, incense burning not far – someone had been here not long ago and probably would come back. San got up with difficulty – his body aching all over – and stalked closer to the window. It was opened and let a serene breath of wind in the room. As the priest looked outside, at the country spread out under him, he gasped. He was in the palace!

A picturesque view was offered to him, but San could not take in the beauty of these colorful lands as the memory of his last moments before he collapsed in a _deity_ ’s arms played in front of his wide, panicked eyes. Questions flooded him with the strength of a tsunami, why was he in the palace? What was going to happen to him? San felt dread heavy like a rock in his stomach as he remembered the fear the king had inspired him.

There were a slight shuffle and the soft noise of the paper doors sliding on the floor, and San tensed, slowly turning around. A woman in physician purple robes stood there, smiling gently at him. "I see you're awake."

San nodded, blinking at her as she entered further in the room, kneeling next to the small table at the center and taking a bowl in her hands and stirring a paste that smelled like eucalyptus, looking graceful despite the long sleeves hanging from her thin arms. "How long have I been sleeping?" he asked, his tongue furred, dry like he had swallowed a mouthful of sand. As if she had read in his mind, she poured water in a cup, sliding it at the other end of the table, openly inviting him to sit with her. San felt profound relief when his lips touched the freshwater.

“Only a full lunar rotation, it must be because you have a magic core, your wounds are healing fast.” The physician said, barely raising her eyes from the green paste. “This is for your wounds, your feet are almost healed.” San stayed silent, thinking about how beaten his body was, the memory of the pain replaying in his mind, and he shivered, feeling nauseous. “There’s a bath ready, it will help with the pain.” She said, pointing to the door with her chin.

San probably should have thought of a way to escape from the palace as it seemed he was not guarded, but he did not even question the physician before leaving to the next room. Before he slid the door closed, however, she stopped him with a light hum. He turned around to look at her, to see that she was staring up, and he found himself to be impressed at the deep, sparkly black of her irises, the reptilian-like shape of her pupils enhanced by an elegant beauty mark under the right one. "The king will want to see you once he's informed you're awake, brace yourself." San exhaled, tired.

There was a bath indeed, but the priest stopped at the sight of ice-cubes floating on the water, the strong odor of arnica invading his nose. He noticed the state of his clothes as he moved his fingers to the fabric. San was still in the white linen clothes he had been given before the ascension, they were dusty, yellowish with sweat and stained with blood. His shirt was hanging open, the dark oaths on his chest visible. In the bath, shaking from the cold, his muscles tense, he inspected his body. It was covered in bruises – yellow, red, and blue painted on his tan skin like flowers – and scabs. San curled up on himself, trying to relax his body despite the cold.

When the young priest got out of the water after some time, his body was lighter, but he was relieved to wrap himself in a soft drying cloth. The physician had kindly put clean robes behind the screen – much more elegant than the hessian clothes Jongho had given him, with more layers than what he had been given at the temple, yet simpler, in a cheaper fabric than the robes he wore as a disciple of the Sun.

San went back into the room, where the physician was waiting by the window. She asked him to sit, taking the bowl with the paste in her hands. She kneeled close to him. “Ah, they’ve been so rough with you, did they really believe you were a poor commoner? Your skin is as delicate as the royals, it’s a shame it has so many scars now,” she said, with a slight pout.

San shrugged. “I feel like this is the first time I’ve felt pain in my life, but here so many people feel it every day.”

The physician smiled, taking his ankle between her cold fingers, her thumb pressing against the sole of his feet – San hissed. And then shivered, his toes curling, when she started applying the paste against his scabby skin. The priest scrutinized her face a few seconds.

“Have we met before?” He asked, narrowing his eyes, suspicious.

The physician snorted, raising an eyebrow at him like she knew something. "Maybe so."

San tensed, a sudden bundle of anxiety piling in his stomach. He stayed silent as he meticulously watched the physician take care of his wounds. However, when she tried to move his robes aside to treat the bruise on his back, he recoiled, crossing his hands against his chest. The physician sighed. "I know who you are, disciple San." San flinched. "You're the one who came to me first. Now turn around."

The priest frowned, confused, but complied. “Who are you?” The physician only replied with a chuckle.

A few hours later, San was led through the palace to meet the king. His shoulders were hurting with the weight of his fear, but he tried not to show any weakness, feeling like the wolves observing him with attention in the palace would jump at him the second his facade would crack. The castle was indeed even more exquisite inside its ramparts, from unreal gardens spreading rare perfumes all over the place to golden details carved in the king's steady and elegant pagoda's walls.

The room he was taken to had portraits hanging on every wall. San was left alone with a eunuch to wait for the king, so he looked around at the Golden family's pictures. He gasped when he found a familiar face, and felt the eunuch come closer, but could not care less as he looked at his brother's severe eyes for the first time in years. San remembered being ten and throwing tantrums, desperate when he realized he could no longer picture his family's faces, that they had become blurry faces to him. It was impossible not to recognize Seonghwa, with his unique and yet oh so characteristic of their lineage features, white hair falling on his forehead, and his eyes focused as his back was as straight as a ruler. His brother indeed did look like a prince. San felt a small volcano of emotions threaten to explode inside his heart. His fingers twitched with the desire to touch the painting as if he could feel his brother's long lost presence.

"Do you know young prince Seonghwa?" suddenly asked the eunuch, and San jumped, coming back to reality, folding his hand in a fist and hugging it tight against his chest, like caught red-handed.

*

“ _San! San! Come back, you know the parents said not to go here!” Seonghwa ran, panicked, behind his little brother, still so small, his giggles free of any worry and his front tooth missing. The elder anxiously looked behind, not seeing their parents anywhere near. “San! Ah, the parents are going to yell at me,” he whined, before running after his brother who was now standing in front of the throne room’s huge doors – left slightly ajar – seemingly feeding his curiosity. When Seonghwa finally reached the younger, he slid his thin arms around his brother, trying to discreetly lead him away. “Auntie has important business, it’s only for adults.”_

“ _But I’m all grown! She said I’m a big boy now that I’m five,” frowned his little brother, struggling in his hold. “I’m gonna tell mom you’re being mean!”_

“ _San, shut up,” Seonghwa suddenly shushed him, firmly putting his hand over San’s mouth. “Ah, come, come, I hear steps.” He grabbed his brother’s hand and led him behind a large column off the side of the room’s entrance, pressing his back against the wall with his brother against him, just as guards opened the door, looking around. San stared up at him with wide eyes, his bottom lip slightly jutted out. After a while, the door closed again, the guard entering back in the room._

“ _Why are we hiding?” San asked, blowing his white bangs out of his face._

“ _Because the parents said not to bother auntie today, there are important guests,” Seonghwa answered with a firm tone, taking back his brother’s hand and roughly pulling him with him._

“ _But there are always important guests," San whined, pulling back and struggling harder. He pulled so hard, Seonghwa's grip slipped, and his brother fell on the hard flagstone floor at the same time a loud clamor resounded from behind the doors. Seonghwa froze, his eyes traveling back and forth his brother, who had started crying from anger and the doors as if danger was imminent. "You're so mean, the meanest, meanie! I'm gonna tell dad!"_

_Seonghwa's eyes widened, and he crouched in front of his brother, panicked. "Ah, no, no, but look, you're not even hurt, it doesn't hurt, right? And also, if you tell dad, he will know we came here!" He tried to convince San not to tell on him, not looking at him, his eyes fixed on the doors, scared the adults would hear them. “Hush, hush, hush!”_

_San looked up at him, his eyes and cheeks were red with hot tears. “I hate you, you’re the worst brother.”_

“ _You are, too!” Seonghwa frowned at him. San took a deep breath, holding it and turned his head away, showing his offense. “Come, we need to leave, the adults will see us!” But San refused to move._

“ _He's only twelve, I refuse to send him to another kingdom!" The loud voice of their mum echoed through the walls, and Seonghwa tensed, surprised. "You will not take my son away!" Seonghwa's grip around his little brother's shoulders tightened, as the doors opened, and both boys came to face with their mother's angry face before it slowly morphed into shock at the sight of her sons._

Seonghwa blinked his eyes open, taking a deep breath and was surprised not to see his mother, but instead the sun god hovering above him with a contemplative gaze. He stayed still for a second, then two, before blinking rapidly at the god. Laying on the floor, realization suddenly hit him that he was not in the disgusting and stifling skin of a snake anymore; everything was back to its standard size. "Welcome back to reality, prince Seonghwa. Your brother sure was a cute kid."

Seonghwa recoiled, crossing his hands against his heart as if it would keep Yeosang away from his mind. The god raised an eyebrow and leaned back, as Seonghwa sat up. "I think we have things to talk about, your Highness." Seonghwa felt scared of the serious tone the Sun had taken. Despite his child-like face, his almost constant smile, and the fact he had been lucky enough that he decided to keep him alive for now, the prince could not help but feel a deep apprehension every time he was talking to the god. Yeosang oozed an infinite and robust aura of power that made his palms clammy. "Let's make a deal," the god smiled down at him, and Seonghwa shivered. "What do you want more than anything else?"

The prince inhaled, closing his eyes. In his mind, he saw the face of a child, dark hair contrasting with those of their entire family except for white bangs that always fell on his forehead, hugging his arm and asking him not to leave him behind. He saw the Centre Kingdom's king, imperiously sitting on his throne and staring down at him as he was begging to be forgiven the princess' death, threatening him. He saw his late wife bleeding out in his arms as they were standing in the ruins of their carriage, freezing off in the middle of red-stained snow, all because he had asked to visit the remains of his home. He saw himself getting his hands bloodier and bloodier under the pressure of his guilt. "I want to be free…" He ended up whispering, his eyes downcast. "I don't want to be anyone's pet anymore."

Yeosang stayed silent, his gaze fixed on him, and Seonghwa eventually dared to look up. The god was watching him with a contemplative frown again, and the prince slightly curled up on himself. "I'll grant your wish," Seonghwa widened his eyes, stunned. "But you'll have to earn it," Yeosang finished.

The prince’s heart dropped, his eyes closing again with nausea that came over him. It seemed never-ending, he would always be someone’s thing to control, be it a king or a god. Destiny had never planned mercy for him. “Yes, Lord of the Universe,” He whispered, with a broken voice.

"Tell me everything you know, and once we're done with the king, you're free." Seonghwa hesitated, he could hardly fight the god, but he had accepted so many deals and always found himself to be tricked. _Follow your family's footsteps and kill the dragon, and you will be forgiven. Steal the jewel from the Sun, and I will give you the right to leave._ Lies.

Yeosang sighed, getting up. Seonghwa followed him with his eyes, watching his every moves around the room – the same as the one where he found himself locked inside this disgusting snakeskin. "I'm not like your greedy king," the god said, without looking at him, standing in front of a large window. Seonghwa's breath was taken away when he saw the vast and dark seas that reflected the milky way and an infinite field of stars behind the glass. Yeosang's glowing silhouette contrasted and yet fit perfectly against the night. "I'm not looking for power, I'm looking for a peaceful Earth. If I want to protect my child, I will need your help."

Seonghwa suddenly remembered that the man standing at the window was not actually a man, even though he never could forget he was a god. He truly realized at this moment that he was the most powerful star in their universe, always feeling the power emanating from him – a god was not a mere king always looking for more control, more lands. "How can I help? I'm merely a human, I'm an ant to you," Seonghwa whispered, with no confidence.

“You are. But I can’t create balance, I can only nudge it. Humans… are one of the many cycles that create the balance every universe needs.”

“Is my only role in this cycle to be a pawn?” Yeosang slightly turned around, not quite facing him but tilting his head toward him, this contemplative gaze of his back.

"You will have a bigger role if you walk the right path. Destiny is not a fixed thing, you can defy it. But trust me, everything you're looking for is where you don't have to fight."

The prince stayed silent, wondering if he could trust him. But what choice did he have between choosing to remain at the side of a king who used him as a prop to get what he wanted or the star that had built this whole universe and had no interest but to keep it going? He had spent so many years of his life trying to break free from chains that forced him to dishonor the memory of his family. It might have been an umpteenth mistake to jump at another illusion of an escape route, but he could not help but hope – especially when Yeosang had implied his brother might still be alive.

“The king is allied to the Eastern Kingdom, their dragon is with them. I think they want the jewel to control him and dethrone you,” he eventually said, his voice shaky and unsure if he made the right choice. Yeosang scoffed, before walking closer to him, Seonghwa lowered his head. He startled when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, turning his wide eyes towards it.

“Thank you,” the god said softly. “What else?”

"The spy is the Silent Hall Master." The grip around Seonghwa's shoulder tightened a little, and the prince looked up at the god, to see him gritting his teeth, his jaw tense.

"I see." And Yeosang snapped his fingers. Seonghwa felt desperation creep inside his heart as his limbs were melting, and his bones twisting back into the shape of a white snake. "This is temporary, you'll be free when we're done with this."

*

"Ah, no. The white hair…" San lied, slightly turning away from the portrait and facing the eunuch, politely. The man had grizzled hair and a friendly face, his wrinkles deepening with his gentle smile. San almost felt terrible about not acknowledging him sooner. "Is he from the lost kingdom?"

The eunuch's smile turned a little sadder, he slightly turned to look at the portrait. "Unfortunately, yes."

“Unfortunately?” San was surprised, from what he remembered of his kingdom, it had been prosperous and highly praised for its auspiciousness. The old man hummed and led San to sit behind the small table, where a fuming tea set was waiting. San raised his head to look at the attendant, while he was standing straight a few steps away, his hands crossed behind his back.

"Does young master not know about the curse?" San slowly shook his head. "After what happened to the cold kingdom, a few members of the Tempest Family and their people sought refuge in the other kingdoms, but whatever led their country to their doom angered the Sun enough to follow them. Young prince Seonghwa is very good, but he was a victim of the curse that followed his family."

The priest did not know how to feel. He was itching to know more about his brother, but his heart was still aching at the thought of his master, who died from Seonghwa's very sword. "Is he a good prince to this kingdom? You seem to like him."

"Very devoted, better than most do believe… I'm his attendant," the eunuch seemed hesitant, looking at the doors, a small frown creasing his forehead. "Why this interest, young mister?"

San looked down, folding his hand on his lap. “I was only being curious, he looks so different from the Golden Family.”

"He is, very much so," the eunuch mumbled so softly San barely heard him before his attention was taken away by the noise of footsteps behind the doors. A loud trumpet noise announced the king's arrival, and panic stabbed through San's body like a blade once again. The eunuch bent in a full bow at his side, and he himself laid his palms flat against the wood of the table, curling in a respectful bow of his own.

He had no idea what would happen to him, now that he was served up to the king after he had accomplished his role in this big scheme – delivering the jewel to Wooyoung. He had no explanation to give as to why the sacrifice did not work. To the king, he was a rebellious miner, who had accused him of being an assassin.

The king entered draped in a yellow tunic made of the shiniest silk trailing behind him. His head was raised high despite the heavy looking crown adorning his hair, and his eyes ice-cold decorated with straight brows that made him look like one of the marble sculptures standing in the water realm's temples. San's heartbeat was racing as he felt the king approaching and sit at the other side of the table. "Rise," he simply said, his voice authoritarian and clear, and San flinched.

He kept his eyes lowered to his hands, as the eunuch was silently serving water in their porcelain cup of tea. The silence was heavy, thick, stifling; it choked San, who was frozen with fear under the king's gaze, like prey being chased down by an eagle. "What are the odds a poor miner would be saved by a hungry dragon?"

The priest could not get himself to answer, his voice choked down by anxiety. “I have rarely seen a miner whose skin looks so smooth.” San’s back was so tense, the bruises blooming on his skin started burning. “Who are you?”

San looked up at the king, blinking rapidly as his pupils came in contact with those of the king – as golden as his kingdom. He knew this instant that the king already had a doubt about his identity but was waiting to see how to play his cards.

“No one important, Your Majesty,” he answered, his lack of confidence lacing all his words. “I have no idea how faith decided to save my life.”

The king did not say anything for a while, raising a hand to his steaming cup – three leaves were floating on the hot water, and the king frowned. Relieved from this cold gaze, San noticed the two guards standing at the doors, but was most surprised to meet the eyes of one of them, under his hat. His head was respectfully lowered, but he was sporting a discreet smirk, definitely destined to San. But the priest had to contain his astonishment, pinching his lips when he noticed the entrancing beauty mark aligning perfectly with those odd reptile-like irises. He focused back on the king, his breath just a bit faster as the realization hit him when the imperious man suddenly tilted his cup and spilled its content on the floor. "There's no faith in this kingdom, only I get to decide who dies and who lives, though." San widened his eyes in shock. "Why is there tea leaves in my cup?" The man asked the eunuch, who had dipped down into another full bow.

“Please forgive me, I will replace it right away,” the old man said, his voice shaking. San swallowed, frozen by the scene, but again unable to bring himself to move just a finger.

"Seonghwa's attendants are just as useless as him, you are dismissed," the king shot back, not even looking at the eunuch. San's heart ached much as he watched the kind man leave with his every limb trembling like leaves. "In this kingdom, only I get to decide."

The Sun's disciple was speechless as he heard such words, after he witnessed such a scene. For all his youthful beauty, his wealth, and how refined he looked, the king was disgusting San with his hunger for power, and yet the priest could not bring himself to utter a word.

“Only I get to decide who enters my country, who lives, who dies. Who communicates with my dragon, who is saved from this damn volcano and who will rot inside,” the king declared, his words so cruel, a cold horror coated San’s every bone. “Tell me who you are, because faith surely did not save you,” he demanded. “But perhaps a lucky star is watching over you.”

For a few minutes, San stayed silent, cowering under the pressure of the king’s words. He was speechless that a human could try and defy his god. A deep breath of anger seeped into his heart, as his own loyalty for his temple and the Sun took over his body. He almost felt like the oaths on his chest were burning. However, he knew that he could not choose to openly speak out as it would confirm to the king that Yeosang had sent him. Not only it would be like laying down between a wolf’s sharp teeth, but the king would also be the one a step ahead. San looked past the king, at eyes that belonged to a physician turned guard, who was still watching over him.

"I'm no one but a miner whose family was killed because of corruption," San replied, his voice more stable as he was not looking at the king directly, but at Wooyoung, suddenly feeling safe as he understood the gods hadn't left him alone yet. "But it does seem like more than one star is watching over me and that faith is on my side," he smiled politely. They both stonily appraised each other, both having the missing pieces of each other's puzzle in their arms. "Please allow me to take my leave, Your Majesty, as faith did not deem me worthy of going back to the Original State."

Staring back at the king, San noticed how the king was gritting his teeth, no matter how controlled his face was. He did not protest, merely getting up as the guards bowed, and San did as well. There was a second or two of silence, and the priest felt a hand under his chin, tilting his head back, and San flinched – his sudden confidence faltering – as he came face to face to the king, only a few centimeters apart. His throat tightened when the king addressed a cruel smirk to him. "What peculiar hair do you have… it reminds me of someone," he murmured, his voice as husky as it was threatening. San could not answer anything else, and the king released his face and strode toward the exit.

When the king was gone, the priest was left alone with Wooyoung, disguised as a guard. A heavy puff of wind seemed to be flying through the room, remnants of the oppressive aura the king exuded. San exhaled a shaky breath, a little bewildered by all the innuendos the monarch had tacitly made. Then he turned back his eyes to the dragon. "Greetings, Your Honor. I am sorry, for I did not recognize you before, I meant no disrespect."

The deity smiled, taking off his hat and ruffling his black hair. He waved a dismissive hand in the air and walked forward to sit where the king had sat just a minute before. "Yeosang's disciples sure are well taught, it's okay, it's okay," he answered, taking the cup of tea that had been left off the table, and grimaced when he noticed it had turned cold. San watched him cover the small bowl with his hand, and after a few seconds, the tea started steaming. Wooyoung smiled – satisfied – before drinking, under San's attentive gaze. There was something childish painted on the deity's face. With his delicate traits and his slit pupils seemingly always full of mischief, the priest felt like he was looking at the colorful paintings hanging on the library pavilion's wall back in his temple.

"What is going to happen now? Can I go back to the water realm?" San asked, feeling a little clueless about the whole situation. The jewel was in safe hands, and he had no idea what were the Sun's plans.

“Um, I don’t know. I haven’t been in contact with Yeosang yet,” said Wooyoung, resting an elbow on the table and laying a cheek against his palm. “There’s no choice but to wait, we still have to be careful about the king, I don’t think he’s going to stop now, but if he knows I have the Celestial Jewel, he might change plans. We don’t want him to become unpredictable.”

San nodded, understanding. “I will be waiting for further instructions then, Your Honor.”

The deity smiled at him, straightening before swallowing the last of his tea. “For now, I will be escorting you back to Jongho’s house.”

*

San was floating in the dark water – it was so calm, barely moving, and reflecting the night sky like an infinite mirror. He was bathing in the silver moonlight, surrounded by billions of sparkly stars. His ears below the water, he could not hear anything except the soft and velvet voices of the merpeople, water nymphs, and sea creatures swimming around him, lulling him into relaxing his every muscle in the water. Their scaly tails sometimes brushing against his skin, he could see them around him from the corners of his eyes, playing underwater, with their colorful, shiny, and fluorescent tailfins. He felt at peace, his heart beating slowly in between his ribcage. He felt both numb and incredibly alive. No sensation at the tip of his fingers and toes, the freezing cold of the ocean that flooded the water realm never seeping into his skin, and even if he could not feel the flow of oxygen in his lungs, breathing had never been so easy. His chest was free of all weight.

He listened to the echo of the songs, the whistle of the soft breeze running against the water’s surface and running along his skin like cold fingers, oddly knowing it was there without feeling its touch. He wanted to stay there forever, he was so tired…

Suddenly, arms embraced his waist, gentle and loving. If his mind was startled, his body welcomed the newcomer with relief. He closed his eyes and imagined himself shivering as his back was pressed against a muscular chest – the touch weirdly familiar. Still, he had no idea whose body was entangled with his in the glimmering water, their legs slowly kicking back and forth in synchronization. "It's a dream..." San whispered to no one.

A hand slithered from his jaw, along his neck, tickling his collarbones, erecting the buds blooming on his chest, playing with his skin, to his hip, slightly tightening the grip around him and moving his body so they could face, straightening them in the water. San was about to open his eyes to look at the other's features, curious, when his ankle was wrapped in a slimy grip, and it pulled him underwater.

The next moment, he was falling against hard tiles – feeling no pain whatsoever – salty water raining down on him, and the priest found himself lying in a bundle of water. His vision was foggy, and it took him a minute before coming back to his senses.

"I see you have met your soulmate already," said a voice, and San tried to look at where it came from unsuccessfully as black dots were clouding his sight. But slowly, his eyes got used to the room's light, and he found the sun god sitting in a cathedra; San's lips parted with shock. The priest hurried to his knees, laying his palms flat against his thighs and respectfully lowering his head.

“My soulmate, Lord of the Universe?” San asked in lieu of greetings.

“Hm, this is getting interesting,” Yeosang nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. The priest’s cheekbones reddened when realization dawned on him that the god had probably seen him intertwined with another body just seconds ago. Was that his soulmate? Only a few people got to meet their soulmate in a lifetime, and he had unknowingly met his. “But it isn’t the matter at hand, right now.”

San raised his head to meet the god’s eyes. His body was almost entirely bare, his oaths glistening on his chest as the one they were carved for was just meters away. The priest noticed the white snake wrapped around Yeosang’s wrist, its head hovering above his hand, swaying from one side to another. It looked it was scrutinizing him.

“Disciple San, is the jewel in safe hands?”

The priest nodded once. “Yes, I could deliver it to the First Kingdom’s ruling dragon with Jongho’s help. But...”

“But?” Yeosang straightened in his seat, raising a prompting eyebrow at him. San winced.

“I think the Golden Family’s monarch has suspicions, he has had worrisome words.”

"Such as?" The Sun got up, gracefully stepping forward and getting closer. San lowered his head.

“I am not sure whether he thinks I was sent by Your Honor, or that prince Seonghwa and I allied to rob the jewel and betray him, he knows of my origins for sure, is all I can say,” San softly said. “I apologize.”

Yeosang stayed silent, only the noise of his steps breaking the silence in the room. San had a question burning at the tip of his tongue, unsure if he could ask. “Lord of the Universe, when will I be allowed to come back to the water realm?” he ultimately decided to ask, too curious and anxious about the future.

At first, only a sigh answered him as Yeosang stopped right before him. “I am not quite sure… I fear I might need your help again.”

San blinked, his heart sinking. He exhaled a small “why?” missing his home more and more each passing second. Yeosang’s face became serious, the shimmering mischief usually dancing in his eyes gone.

"I destroyed all the portals," the Sun announced, and San startled with shock, raising his head to look at him so fast, his neck almost snapped. "It seems the Golden and the Deep-Waters Families have allied with the Eastern Kingdom's ruling dragon to take control over the earth realm and dethrone me," Yeosang explained, a frown creasing his straight eyebrows. The priest was amazed and frightened by the worry showing on his god's face; even the most potent being looked apprehensive about the future awaiting them. "The spy is the Silent Hall Master, and I needed to be sure there couldn't be any more contact between them," he continued, more to himself than to San.

“The spy is from the temples? But how?”

“This is what is most worrisome, the oaths should have been able to ensure his loyalty, betrayal leads to the destruction of the magic core gained during the carving of the oaths. It’s too close to the heart, he couldn’t have survived to it.”

As Yeosang was looking in the direction of the window, San lowered his head, deep in thoughts after hearing his words. His hands were shaking, he noticed. He jumped when he felt a scaly body against his shoulder's naked skin, leaving Yeosang to slither around his left arm and wrap its tail around his wrist and raising its head to face him. San's eyes met those of the snake, and despite the fear he felt in his stomach of the animal possibly attacking him, his hands stopped shaking as if his body knew its touch. San looked up at the sun god, whom he found staring down at his snake, the shadow of a smile back on his lips.

"But how could I help?" the disciple asked, diverting his attention away from the snake hugging his arm back to the discussion. Yeosang tilted his chin towards the large window, encouraging him to follow when he walked with big strides to the view.

"See all these paths these stars make?" The god pointed to the sky, and San gazed up, trying to understand what exactly Yeosang was pointing to. "This is how the universe communicates with me, how my elders advise me. All these stars are eyes, they see everything. The past, the present, and the future."

San widened his eyes at the freckled black sky. "This is why I know my throne is safe, this is why I know what the right way to go is."

“Excuse my curiosity, but why can’t the Sun just stop the kings in their nefarious plans?” San turned his body to face his god – whose galaxy irises were still focused on the sky.

“I have learned once that I can’t interrupt a cycle. On this earth, I am a mediator. The same way the dragons guarding the peace in each kingdom are mediators in the balance of the earth realm. I could just get rid of the rebels, just like the greedy Golden Family, but wouldn’t that lead to more rebellion?”

The priest nodded, understanding, contemplating the words he just heard. "So we need to help the cycle keeps its balance, without forcing it."

Yeosang nodded. "I need trustworthy people to foil the Centre, and Eastern's Kingdoms plans to ensure the protection of the inhabitants of Earth. But we can't get rid of these monarchs and leave their kingdoms without a ruler. We need to bring a major change without ruining the balance."

"I will do my best to serve you, Lord of the Universe," San replied, slightly bending forward in a small bow. The disciple felt the snake tighten around his arm and winced, looking down at it. Its eyes seemed almost disapproving. He ignored it to look back at Yeosang, who turned away from the window to face him.

"The stars have told me to trust the fallen kingdom's last descendants," he smiled. Casting a quick glance back at the sky, he nodded to himself. "The moon has set here and is now rising in the earth realm, it's soon time for you to wake up."

San blinked his eyes open with a gasp. He stayed still for a few seconds, slowly breathing in and out, his mind fuzzy with his rude awakening. Lethargy had yet to leave his every limb, sleepiness making his body heavy. He looked through the window, squinting and scrunching his nose blinded by the heavy Sun shining high in the sky. Seeing the moon just beginning its ascent on the horizon, San understood he had slept a few hours after his god had sent his subconscious back into his body, and yet he felt like he hadn’t slept at all.

Sighing, he rubbed his heavy eyelids, yawning, trying to shake off the drowsiness out of his brain. Between everything he had been told by Yeosang and the past days' events, San was lost – the anxious ball of nerves at the bottom of his stomach back, making him feel like he was too small, too weak for such matters. He desperately wanted to go back home. The royals, the jewel, the corruption, his soulmate; he did not want to think about it anymore, he did not want to have to take part in this fight, even if San had no choice but to listen to his god – just as he had been taught so while growing up in the water realm.

But he also knew that if the stars had decided of this path for him if the Sun had chosen him for this mission, if faith had assigned a soulmate to him – what powers did he have to resist against the most influential forces of the universe?

San got up, his spine and neck painfully cracking, his joints ankylotic, and his muscles still stiff with the bruises that had yet to fade. The burnt soles of his feet were numb and unpleasantly pulling at his skin.

Dressed back in the dark blue disciple robes from the Centre Temple to at least feel connected to home despite the broken portals, the priest sat back on the bed inside the room in which Jongho had kindly let him settle, resting his elbows on his knees. He massaged his temples with the tip of his fingers.

His eyes closed, he did not notice the moment another person had appeared in the room. “I guess you have had an eventful sleep,” a voice greeted him.

San’s shoulders tensed when he heard the dragon’s cheerful voice. When he looked up, Wooyoung was raising an eyebrow at him, just a meter away. Pushing his body up, he slightly bowed. “Greetings, Your Honor.”

The priest shivered when Wooyoung put his hands on his shoulders, his thumbs slowly rubbing his collarbones through the silk of his robes. “Don’t use titles with me, call me by my name,” he whispered, and San’s heart started beating so hard, he almost could not hear anything else than his own pulse, when the dragon’s breath hit the crown of his head.

"I couldn't, Your Honor, it would go against all my teachings," San replied, keeping his head lowered. He heard a sigh ruffling his hair, and Wooyoung pushed his shoulders up, forcing him to stand upright. San looked up at the deity, then briefly down at the hands still rubbing against his collarbones, feeling overwhelmed by their touch. Something about the dragon made him feel like his breath had been taken away like he had been caged into a tight embrace.

Their faces were incredibly close, Wooyoung’s body heat seeping into his own body, halfway between warm like a cotton blanket and burning like heavy stormy weather. San had never felt that comforted by someone’s crushing aura. Almost like his body had been waiting for such warmth for a long time, like it was some sort of relief that chased away his fatigue. Was it that his body had been touch starved for years, missing the gentle touch of arms holding him? Was it the dragon’s own aura that attracted everyone to him?

Staring into Wooyoung's reptilian pupils, his beauty mark aligning perfectly with his pupil, San could not get a word past his chapped lips. His hands tightening around him, his presence suddenly too familiar, he was back in the dark sea, floating above the water with a burning chest pressed against his cold skin. He recoiled, stepping back, not ready to think about the odd way the deity affected him, and the back of his knees hit the bed, making him stumble.

Wooyoung quickly wrapped his arms around him, keeping him standing. San stopped breathing, his heart racing, as he was pressed against the deity's chest for the second time, the tip of their nose almost touching. "I think I've held you one too many times for you not to call me by my name," Wooyoung smiled at him, quirking a mischievous eyebrow. The priest felt embarrassment creep up his neck and cheeks, once again stepping out of Wooyoung's hold.

“I am sorry to cause you so much trouble,” he mumbled, looking away. A giggle – childish, careless – echoed in the room.

"It's no trouble at all, disciple San," Wooyoung sat down on the bed. "So did you have a nice talk with..." the deity trailed off, pointing his thumb to the Sun peeking through the window, high in the sky, still all smile.

The disciple nodded, “It seems that we are one step ahead, but the threat is bigger.”

Wooyoung hummed. “Let me guess, the Eastern Kingdom is allied to the Centre?” San twisted around, raising surprised eyes to the deity, who sighed. “Dragons are not exempt from greed, some are content with their powers. Others can’t accept to be stuck in their lonely fortress,” the dragon said with a humorless snort. “Hyunjin is quite the voracious one, treason sometimes does come from where you expect it the most.”

San stayed silent a few seconds, pondering on these words. “If dragon deities do feel greed, how come the Sun trusts you enough to protect the jewel?”

Wooyoung turned his reptilian eyes to him, licking his lips and then puckering them, seeming suddenly hesitant. "It's a long story," he breathed out, his eyes piercing right through San like they saw something himself could not see. "May it be the one who created us, or us who protect you, we are all bound to make mistakes."

The priest frowned, crossing his arms against his chest, running his nails on his robes' comforting silk, feeling guilty that his question had brought back unpleasant memories to Wooyoung's mind.

"The ruined kingdom did have beautiful treasures," San tensed, hearing those words. Wooyoung raised contemplative eyes to him, standing up and then coming closer. The priest only gritted his teeth when Wooyoung gentle moved his white bangs away from his forehead. "Sometimes, watching the world grow at your feet, from where you're bound to an angry volcano, from where you have to feed on life to fight the wrath of your own home..." Wooyoung continued playing with his white bangs as San felt his mouth drying because of this electric touch, his stomach twist as he quietly observed the sorrow on the dragon's face. "Sometimes, it is lonely. One day, a white-haired prince came to visit me."

San’s eyes widened. “Seonghwa?”

Wooyoung lowered his hand, his eyes meeting the priest's, and he smiled. "Hm, Seonghwa." He walked away, sitting back on the bed, and San stayed put, hiding his hands behind his back, fidgeting on the end of his sleeves. "He's an interesting man." San's tongue was itching to ask for more, but he stayed silent. "Got me to give him my heart on a plate, in my desperation to give up on the kingdom I've been told to protect."

The priest gasped, raising his hand to his mouth, shocked. “Why?” San was deeply disturbed to hear about his brother’s past actions, about him repeating their own king’s mistake, wondering again to what extent he had changed in the years they had been separated.

Wooyoung shrugged. "We can all do stupid stuff out of desperation. Yeosang saved me. But his trust is only due to the box in which the heart I took out of my own chest is locked." San blinked, involuntarily stepping forward. "It would be so easy for him to destroy it and put me out."

“But how..?” Wooyoung stretched out a hand to him, and San’s hand took it without his mind’s consent. The dragon led his fingers to his chest, encouraging him to rest a palm where his heart should have been beating. The disciple gasped when he felt nothing, raising distraught eyes to him. The deity seemed unaffected, expressionless as he was scrutinizing San’s reaction. “My brother did that? I...” San fell to his knees, his hands flat on the wooden floor, apologetically bowing his head. “I am sorry, Your Honor.”

Wooyoung exhaled above him, once again wrapping his hands around San’s shoulders, forcing him up. “Not him, I did this to myself. Don’t apologize for actions that are not yours.”

“Why are you telling me this? Why do you trust me?”

The deity laughed. And proceeded to wrap a strong arm around San’s thin waist, forcefully swinging him around. His breath got stuck at the base of his throat, once again covering his mouth with his fingers to hold back a gasp when Wooyoung pressed his chest against his back – his heat barely contained by their clothes, a blush spreading on San’s cheeks. His heart was threatening to explode inside him, as Wooyoung’s fingers brushed his hand and then slithered from his jaw, along his neck, tickling his collarbones through his robes, grazing past his chest, to his hip, slightly tightening the grip around him. San’s skin got covered in goosebumps as his mind replayed these exact gestures, their bare bodies, and water surrounding them.

“Because how can I not trust the disciples of the Sun?” Wooyoung laughed in his ears.

Burning from head to toe, the priest struggled out of his arms, defensively crossing his around himself. “I… Of course, I’m the most loyal to the Sun,” he mumbled, his voice made husky by his trouble, feigning not to understand Wooyoung’s gestures. “We, um, I think I heard Jongho call me?”

And San fled, flustered, his mind crazed by turmoil and unknown sensations, out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this chapter!!!! see you soon for the next update… in may hopefully, sooner if quarantine is extended. huuuuuuuuuuh leave comments and kudos to feed my need for validation uwu thanks bye
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/mingiopom)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/etoilephilante)


	3. The birth of the royals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I am unworthy…" San couldn't help but argue, licking his lips – he shivered when he noticed that the dragon's slit pupils briefly fell on his mouth. "How could we be fated, you're a god, and I’m…”
> 
> “The most luminous human to ever cross my path in an eternity.”
> 
> San was ready to protest, but Wooyoung’s words beat him to the punch. For a moment, they only stared into each other’s eyes, the priest looking for more comfort, and the dragon in awe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i have come back
> 
> this chapter is mostly transitional, but important nonetheless i think
> 
> remember how i said i'd try to post at least a chapter every month? yeah well all men do is lie and i am a simple man i guess rip. no but like fr i wish i could say i was busy with school, then work, and technically it was true sometimes but we all can see the number of fics i posted on ao3 since obskies' ch2 so yeah NO EXCUSE but a huge writer block on just that fic
> 
> i think i'll dedicate my ending notes to explanations on why the hell I'm having such a hard time with this fic WORRY NOT HOWEVER i am not giving up on it (i mean i guess it's obvious I'm posting a whole chapter right now). I'm just doing it in my own time
> 
> well the next two chapters are dragon fights so i guess i'll write them quicklier tho but no promises
> 
> in the meantime.... CHAPTER WARNINGS:  
> way too many references to way too many different lores, stray kids' changbin as the mean dragon became hyunjin because hyunjin sexy villain and changbin too soft, san gets a kissie, wooyoung feels his nonexistent heart skip a beat, ah yeah ANGST and sanhwa fight and it's not pretty. ah, brothers
> 
> please enjoy <3

_The colorful planet called Earth had given birth to numerous children, all different from each other, all special, all well-loved by the gods. The side of her body that was ruled by night, water, and mounts was populated by magnificent creatures with scales and gills who swam underwater. Fluorescent and delicate, entirely fish, sometimes a bit man or woman, perhaps entirely sea salt, ocean foam, calm lake, and flowing river. Always prancing under the billions of eyes that freckled a dark sky, they had all become luminous creatures – capable of destroying as well as healing with the sound of their voices, the cold touch of their fingers. Nymphs, Sirens, Mers, Fish, Krakens… turbulent monsters and peaceful species living in symbiosis._

_The other half of her body that was ruled by day, land and volcanoes had fewer magical creatures but was just as diverse. Each kingdom had a unique fauna; and sometimes in deep forests, independent of other species, small villages could be found, made of wooden houses that sheltered Elves, Imps, Witches, Spirits; or vast fields of giant flowers where Pixies and Fairies danced and laughed; even caverns where Trolls and Goblins hid._

_But these lands were densely populated by humans, the most belligerent and dominant specie. Yet, they were neither the biggest nor the strongest, and most of them had not been given magic. Only a few selected ones were graced with a bit of starlight flowing in their blood – Priests who cultivated it at the original creator's service, offsprings of a union between humans and magical creatures, and later Royals._

_At first, the only form of power over humans was the gods; the Sun they prayed to and the deities who protected them from the angry volcanoes. But even though Yeosang had thought dragons enough to ensure peace on these unruly lands, he had soon been proven wrong. There was a missing piece in this infinite cycle, and after only a few rotations around the giant Sun, the earth realm was plunged into chaos again._

_The Sun did not want to make any of these humans different, except for those who had been chosen as messengers between both realms. But when war raged in these countries and blood spilled on these lands, Yeosang understood that humans were too numerous to be left without leadership and laws._

_Yeosang thus put an end to the reign of cacophony and discord and for each territory chose a man or a woman who was endowed with enough strength, determination, and a sense of justice to assume the role of their kingdom’s head. So, the first royals were born._

_To ensure that their people would bow to them, the Sun gifted them with powers. And just like he had created a bond between dragons and volcanoes, he did the same to the chosen Kings and Queens - meaning harmony between the deities and the kingdoms' leaders became vital to keep the fire mountains tame. This caused many changes, and the earth realm tasted peace again._

_The Center Kingdom's first king was the oldest and wisest man of the village that then expended into the biggest country of the earth realm. His kingdom had been provided by gold mines, making it the wealthiest, and it flourished faster than any other nations, with its four distinct seasons – oh so rare on this two-faced planet. Yeosang gifted him with the ability to turn anything he wanted into gold, which put sparkles of wonders in his subjects' eyes._

_The first leader of the Eastern Kingdom was the smartest strategist of the country's population, strong and inflexible. Her kingdom was an infinite horizon painted in blue, the only territory that was mostly water on the earth realm, an exception. The powers the Sun gave her matched her unparalleled strength and torrential nature, able to create the most violent maelstroms and storms. She used her precious power as a tempestuous and dangerous fortress for her kingdom – her people crowned her and swore loyalty to her lineage, impressed by this insurmountable protection she promised._

_The Western Kingdom was the smallest one, and was covered in red sand where life was arduous. The young man whom Yeosang had chosen was a glassblower. His craft was respected, and the Lord of the Universe made him able to breathe winds that could blow away anything in their way. He used it to expend their impoverished country, using their infinite land of sand, the scorching hot fire in their volcano, and his power to make a glass city. These beautiful pieces reflected the sky, the Sun, and the red sand and made this kingdom into a wonder of its own._

_In the South were could be found deep and mysterious forests, was a kingdom painted in an enchanted green, the only one where magical creatures and humans lived in cohesion. Yeosang had selected the mute offspring of a union between a fairy and a man to represent their kingdom, breathing into her the power to bring life into static beings, trees, flowers, rocks, to be their voice. The young girl was appreciated in the kingdom, as a symbol of harmony between all these different species that shared the same lands._

_The last kingdom to appear was situated on the cold, snowy Northern lands of the earth realm. Among the few humans who had managed to make these lands into theirs, the Sun God chose an elderly woman whose hair was as immaculate as the grounds they walked on. The fifth person of the Earth realm who was made a royal was given the ability to communicate with fate – indeed, these lands were so unpredictable, Yeosang's gift to them was their dreams. Storms, avalanches, tempestuous winds, once that elderly woman closed her eyes and fell asleep, the divine forces sent her messages, images to warn her. And thus, she became worthy of leading this small village, which soon became a thriving kingdom, despite these lands' hardships._

_And these illustrious men and women loved and in turn also created. Centuries and centuries and centuries went by until these families who ruled these five kingdoms along with the dragons became two, then dozens, and eventually, a few hundred people gifted with a little bit of starlight._

_As long as these few families blessed with divine light lived in harmony with deities, the volcanoes that could make these countries prosperous as well as reduce them to mere ashes, stayed peaceful._

_Thus were born the Golden, Deep-Waters, Glass, Forest, and Tempest royal families, but of course, they were never flawless._

*

San left his room, Wooyoung closely following behind him with quiet steps, while the priest still felt the heat of embarrassment and the need to avoid the deity’s crushing presence tickling his skin. The house was filled with soft clatters and voices. San recognized Jongho and Yunho’s voices, sometimes interrupted by Hongjoong’s croaks as they were having a peaceful conversation in the human’s living room.

“Good lunar hours,” Jongho greeted him when the priest entered the room, stunning him. The back of his head was facing him, and he did no movement to turn around, while Yunho and even the frog Hongjoong – from his seat on the armchair – directed their eyes to him. "Greetings, Your Honor," he then muttered, as San wondered how even the blind man had sensed him arrive and who was with him.

“Good lunar hours, Jongho,” Wooyoung answered politely, and San could hear his usual childish smile back in his voice; the severe tone he had used to tell him about his brother's misdeed, as well as the sensual, teasing one that had flustered him, both gone. “Yunho, Prince Hongjoong,” he then nodded to Jongho’s company, stepping forward while the priest stayed put at the living room’s entrance. Hongjoong replied with a croak, and it seemed to San that he even lowered his head in a small bow.

San followed the deity with his eyes, watching him walk with this imposing bearing of his. The priest couldn’t help but notice how the light hit the dark shirt that hung on Wooyoung’s shoulders, the same red, blue, and green San remembered seeing on his scales shifting with every roll of his muscles on the iridescent fabric. Wooyoung joined the two other men on the couch, Yunho politely getting up and leaving his seat to the dragon. San could not move as Wooyoung's appearance hit him at full force for the first time – he had been aware of his ethereal beauty, pairing it with the sort of divine glow that always emanated from him. Still, he felt like he was looking at him for the first time, as he had always been too busy thinking about their surrounding, the situation. San did not know why suddenly the deity's golden skin, his graceful figure, and his elegance left him with his heart hammering, rooted to his spot, feeling conflicted about how his body reacted to Wooyoung, now and earlier in his bedroom.

Swallowing his confusion down, San diverted his eyes from Wooyoung, scared of the irrational attraction that had bloomed in his guts. When he raised his eyes, Yunho was watching him curiously, as if he was aware of his inner turmoil. Eventually, the disciple entered further in the room, joining the healer’s side.

"Are your wounds healing well?" The tall green-haired man asked, startling San. "Oh, I was actually the one who took care of you in the palace. You seem to have angered the king quite a lot," Yunho explained with a gentle smile on his soft face. "I hope the medicine I gave His Honor is working." The priest nodded, scrunching his nose. He understood now how Wooyoung managed to sneak in the palace without raising any suspicion from the royal family and how he woke up sound and safe, despite having been left vulnerable in the enemy’s den.

“Thank you for your care, my body is healing fast,” San told the healer, grateful, slightly bowing his head in a polite gesture.

"Mingi's finally here," Jongho softly interrupted them, his unseeing eyes staring at nowhere, stretching a palm to the frog, who hopped on it. And indeed, seconds later, the house's door slammed open.

“I’ve heard that there is trouble in the kingdom," a loud voice announced, and a tall man came in the living room with determined steps and a massive smile on his face.

San scrutinized the newcomer’s malicious arch of eyebrows, the glint in his eyes that had something a little wicked, and his overall nonchalant posture. Jongho got up from the couch and stalked to the witch, Hongjoong cupped in his hands, raising the frog to his face when he was standing in front of Mingi.

“Hongjoong? You’re still a frog?” Mingi yelled, his eyebrows disappearing under his hair with his surprise.

“You never turned him back. It’s been two years,” Jongho muttered, quietly.

San was just watching the scene unfold before his eyes next to Yunho, who soon left his side to join Mingi's. The healer wrapped an arm around the witch's shoulders, whispering something in his ear with an amused smile – his green hair slowly fading into a bright pink. It had surprised San the first time, before he had been told it was another one of the witch's curses, without any further information. Mingi opened his eyes wide, looking contrite, as he stared down at the frog in Jongho’s hand and then at the human.

While the priest was busy trying to understand what was happening, a delicate hand pulled on his fingers. San almost stumbled on Wooyoung, falling on the couch next to the deity, his silky clothes swallowing him messily as he found himself half-sprawled, his shoulder digging in Wooyoung's chest. Steadying himself, a blush creeping on his cheeks, he tidied his clothes, staring everywhere but Wooyoung. "Hongjoong and Jongho are in love," the black-haired man whispered to him with a secretive smirk, his eyes focused on the four other men. San turned around, ignoring the way his heart jumped when he noticed how close Wooyoung and he were sitting, to see Mingi laugh nervously at a feisty looking frog and a withdrawn Jongho. "I think Mingi tried to help them by turning the prince into a frog, I guess it sounded like a good idea while he was drunk."

Wooyoung snickered, while San quirked a confused eyebrow at him. “How?”

The dragon faced him. “Ah, I imagine that you don’t recount fairy tales to children at the temples.”

“Turn him back,” San heard Jongho demand to the witch, while the latter ruffled his flaming red hair, looking embarrassed, and the human brought Hongjoong back close to his chest.

“Well, you see… um, I guess you don't, but…" Mingi trailed off, his panicked eyes looking at Yunho, seemingly asking for help, while the now pink-haired man seemed to be enjoying his embarrassment. The witch looked like a prankster that had been caught on the act.

“Only a true love’s kiss can turn him back into his beautiful prince form,” Wooyoung finally murmured in his ear, sending shivers all over San’s spine, as he widened his eyes.

“And they haven’t figured it out in the past two years?” San whispered back to the dragon, momentarily forgetting their proximity because of his astonishment. Wooyoung scoffed behind his hand, shaking his head at him, when Jongho kicked Mingi’s shin, drawing a painful exclamation from the witch, before stomping away, Hongjoong still hugged close to him.

When Mingi and Yunho came back with them, the priest moved away from Wooyoung, putting some space between them, and he felt the deity's lingering hand on his. He could not fathom why the other acted in such a way with him when he noticed that no one here called him by his name, and Wooyoung didn't ask them to do so either, whereas he had asked San twice, despite being only a foreign priest.

“I don’t know you,” Mingi addressed San with an impish grin, sitting between them. San nodded at him in a shy greeting, overwhelmed by the witch’s loud and overbearing presence.

“He’s a young priest from the water realm,” Wooyoung answered for him, leaning forward, putting his elbow on his knee and resting his cheek on his palm, looking at San with this conniving smile of his.

"Greetings, I am San," the priest continued to Mingi's interest. The red-haired man nodded, staying silent two seconds, carefully looking at him then at Wooyoung, and then hummed knowingly.

“Ah, another victim of Yeosang’s caprices,” he said, leaning back on the couch's backrest. "Well, at least it gives you a break from the boring temple life," Mingi laughed mockingly, and San spluttered.

“I think you are mistaken about the temples,” the priest spoke out, slightly offended, a frown creasing his eyebrows and turning a tight-lipped smile to the witch. “Giving my devotion to the stars and the Sun is the most virtuous teaching, it is not boring to serve our universe.”

"You are disrespectful," Yunho intervened, while he seemed to be holding a snicker back, his hands on Mingi’s shoulders, from his spot behind the couch. Mingi only snorted, and San diverted his eyes to a potted plant.

“Young priest San is of great help, he sure did help more than you who disappeared who-knows-where,” Wooyoung remarked at the witch. San felt his annoyance melt just as fast as it had flared up under his skin, when the deity came to his defense, to his surprise.

“I am a very busy witch,” Mingi replied, his pointy nose in the air. “You cannot even imagine the time it takes to convince trolls to forgive an elf clan for stealing their river.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is not because you spent probably months drinking with the faes,” the dragon scoffed, with a knowing smirk.

San could not help but feel curious about the creatures of the earth realm Wooyoung and Mingi had mentioned. He remembered reading bestiaries he had found in his temple’s library pavilion, about the magical being that populated the side of their planet that had always known light. He resisted the urge to face the witch again to ask about them – the Lucky-Star High Priest had always scolded him for his insatiable curiosity. A new wave of sadness washed over him, thinking back to his late master. The latter had still taught him about the water and land creatures, despite telling him off whenever he forgot his place as a disciple, thinking more about their world's wonders than principles and prayers to the stars.

While San was lost in his memories, distantly conscious of Yunho, Mingi, and Wooyoung's voices filling the room, a blinding light suddenly lit up the entire room, cutting off the discussion and attracting everyone’s attention. San turned his amazed eyes towards it before squeezing them shut when the growing glow became unbearable. He sensed the other men move around him, and warm hands took his, gently pulling him up. “Greetings, Lord of the Universe,” Yunho was the first to speak up, and the priest naturally bowed in the direction of the source of light, opening an eye when he felt it slowly fade away. Yeosang stood straight at room’s entrance, his divine bearing still as robust, golden hair framing his androgynous face and, unexpectedly, a glint that looked like anger in his pupils that reflected the skies. A tall figure was half-hidden behind him, a long cape covering the stranger, and its hood pulled up so that their face remained hidden to their sight.

The sun god waved a hand, and both Yunho and San straightened their bodies up. “What brings you here?” Mingi asked with a grin from where he was still sitting quite comfortably.

“With a company, as well,” Wooyoung remarked, standing just behind San – so close, his back was burning.

The priest had his eyes riveted to the strange figure behind Yeosang, trying to make out of the covered face’s features. “The Silent Hall’s Master was found dead,” the Sun simply announced, his voice even. While the other people in the room did not react, San gasped, turning distraught eyes to Yeosang, who silently walked to the armchair to sit down, the hooded person following him closely.

"Was it that he managed to hold back the destruction of his magical core, but the oaths' powers were stronger than him, in the end?” San supposed out loud, frowning while he brought his hand where he knew his own oaths were inked on his chest, feeling them burn in recognition again as Yeosang was near.

"I think so, I have assigned the High Priestess from the main temple to find any other possible cause of death," the god raised his eyes to meet Wooyoung's, just above San's shoulder. "How is the volcano behaving?"

The dragon sighed, taking his seat back next to Mingi, and San stepped away to stand near the window facing the couch and armchair, Yunho soon joining him. “It’s why I’m here, it's getting restless. It has not been fed, and it's sensing the chaos the royal family's schemes are bringing. I hoped that you would have given further instructions to disciple San."

“How much time do we have before it erupts?” San also looked at Wooyoung, feeling fear eat at his guts as he realized that bringing balance in the kingdom seemed to be more urgent than planned. The deity’s face was neutral, void of emotions, his reptilian eyes lowered to his hands.

“About a lunar cycle, I think. I can feed it with the remaining of my powers,” the dragon said, small sparkles lighting his fingers' tip. San could not help but feel taken aback at his words, curious about the meaning of remaining, wondering if the first and most crucial kingdom's dragon was in a bad state.

Many questions made the disciple of the Sun’s mind boggle, yet he stayed silent as Yunho, whose pink hair had shifted into a sad gray, cleared his throat. “I also have some news to report from the palace.”

Jongho had once told San that the healer knew every secret, even the most guarded ones in the palace, his position as the most trusted physician in the kingdom, allowing him to collect all the pieces of information he might need. If the priest had quickly understood that Yunho was not siding with anyone but himself, it seemed that he was willing to help stop the king's devious plot.

“While disciple San was recovering from the many wounds the king has inflicted him, His Highness talked freely to me,” the healer said, his voice even. “He thinks that Wooyoung, prince Seonghwa, and San are allied to overthrow his reign.”

“As if that cowardly prince would ever go against him,” scoffed Mingi examining his nails, quickly sending an odd look at the hooded figure that San had almost forgotten from how quietly they were standing behind the armchair's backrest. “Unless there’s a reward at stake.”

The priest felt himself grow uncomfortable at these words, while he could not find it to defend his lost brother when all he knew about him were his traitorous actions. Anxiety pooled in his stomach, as he got a weird impression that someone was looking at him – yet everyone’s attention was away from him. “It is also what I guessed,” he replied to Yunho, trying his best to ignore this unpleasant feeling. “He probably thinks Seonghwa has the jewel.”

The healer nodded, and his hair brightened to a pale blue as a wide smile stretched his lips. "Correct. His assumption is that Seonghwa took the jewel and found you and now is trying to control Wooyoung to take over the kingdom out of resentment, so he still has the upper hand in his eyes."

“What I fail to understand is why,” San voiced his concern, furrowing his brows, confused. “Because that assumption isn’t too far from reality.”

Yeosang chuckled a little, bringing his disciple’s attention back on him, as he was tracing his fingers on the armchair’s embroideries. “Because no matter how many times the prince rebelled, the king has always managed to bring him back,” the Sun sing-sang, getting up to stand behind the hooded figure, resting his hands on the stranger’s shoulders. “Isn’t that right, Your Highness?”

San stopped breathing as he distinguished the tall figure’s head nod under the thick velvet covering their face, as elegant hands pulled the hood down to reveal white curls that shone like snow. He was frozen, meeting his brother’s unreadable eyes.

“Greetings, prince Seonghwa," snorted Mingi, as silence fell upon the room. Wooyoung jumped to his feet, stalking to the window and turning his back to the scene, and Yunho didn’t look surprised in the slightest. San’s ears buzzed like thousands of bees were flying around his head; he couldn’t move.

“I don’t think anyone else is supposed to come,” Jongho’s voice broke the anticipatory silence weighing on the room. "Tea?" He asked a plate with a set of tea in his hands, making his way to the small table that stood between them all, Hongjoong the frog sitting on his shoulder, oblivious of how every eye was turned to him, surprised by his sudden reappearance.

"San..." Seonghwa whispered, in the middle of the clatter, Jongho made as he was pouring tea in eight cups, and it was what brought life back into the room.

“No.” The priest firmly croaked out, turning his back to his brother.

Somewhere in his mind, San perhaps had wanted to find Seonghwa the past few lunar rotations. Despite all his disappointment as he had learned more about all the different ways he had strayed away from all the values their parents had tried to teach them during the few years they could call themselves a family. But now that he found himself so close to him, it was as if he could see the bloody sword in Seonghwa’s hand, the one that he had used to kill his master – and the one with which he might have once even planned to steal the Center Kingdom’s ruling deity’s heart.

His back turned to Seonghwa, he could only watch the way Jongho was pouring tea, while Mingi was sprawled on the couch watching the two brothers with a raised eyebrow, Yunho also had his curious eyes turned to the scene, his hair now a muted orange. Further, Wooyoung was facing the window, and San wondered which emotion could be stirring the dragon’s face.

As his eyes were absentmindedly riveted on Hongjoong who extended his tongue to take a sip of his cup of tea – almost just as big as him – he wondered why exactly he was more worried about the dragon's pain than the tremble in his own brother's voice as he called out for him.

“San, look at me,” Seonghwa asked, making him grit his teeth.

The priest was embarrassed; he was ashamed to know that so many people, almost strangers, were spectators to this pathetic scene. He was even more ashamed that it was his own brother, who caused so much trouble.

San turned around, but instead of looking at his brother that he saw open his mouth ready to say something, he bowed to Yeosang, fixing his eyes to his tiptoes. “Lord of the Universe, as one of your devoted disciples, I apologize for my blood’s misdeeds. I…”

"San!" Seonghwa grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to straighten up and cutting him off. The prince's voice had remained soft since the last time they had seen each other over ten years prior, but it seemed raw at the moment, from emotions.

San glared at him when they locked eyes, and it seemed to render Seonghwa speechless. "I promise to dedicate myself to turning right," the priest continued, turning his eyes towards the sun god, who was once again sitting in the armchair, looking pensive as he was looking right back at the disciple, "every wrong that has been done."

“Stay out of this, San, I will make up for my mistakes by myself, please,” the prince begged, tugging on his arm, and the younger brother finally put all his focus on him. Their faces were close, and their gazes locked.

San frowned, watching with his mouth turned down the weird combination of despair and awe, making his elder's eyes damp, as the prince was obviously scrutinizing his face. The priest felt the rush of anger and embarrassment that had piled up the past lunar rotations and started to spill out of him settle a little, the rim of his eyes stinging a little.

"I… I am happy I found you, I thought you were also… dead," Seonghwa finally said, with a tentative smile, offering a truce. "You don't have to get involved more in this, I'll right all the wrongs myself."

San's anger spiked up again when he heard those words – how could Seonghwa speak with such a sweet voice, such hope, making a promise that he had already broken?

“You killed my master," the disciple eventually murmured – and suddenly, it was like he had opened the door to a flood, after voicing out what had been twisting his heart this whole time. What had seemed even more painful than all the physical torture he had gone through. He looked at the way his brother lost his hopeful smile, his eyes widening. “The man you killed, in all these past years I grew up mourning my family, he was the one who brought me up.”

“I…” Seonghwa seemed to choke on his words, slightly stepping back with downcast eyes.

“How could I rejoice in meeting you again, if it’s because you killed the one who was a father and a mother to me? If it’s after I learned that you tried to kill a dragon, who I’m supposed to serve? If the last member of my family I thought alive was actually soiling the deceased's memory while following the steps of the disgrace who brought ruin to our kingdom?"

Seonghwa raised eyes that had become red with tears at his brother, and if San felt a pang of guilt cloud his sight, he ignored it. The priest shook the prince’s grip off his arm and stepped away.

"After all, how can you ask me not to get involved or trust you to do something right, when the one standing before me is too different from what I thought I could call a brother?"

“I had no choice!” the elder finally cried, the ache of his faults twisting his pretty face. San pinched his lips and crossed his arms against his chest, his nails digging in his clothes' fabric. "You have no idea what the king is capable of, I had no choice, I just wanted to survive and find you!"

The priest stepped back again, increasing the distance between them. “No, I know what the king is capable of, I’ve tasted it for myself.”

San swallowed thickly after choking those words out, blinking the dampness out of his eyes and diverting his gaze away from his brother's troubled frown.

“Speak of an emotional reunion,” Mingi muttered, and it was at that moment that the priest remembered the six other pairs of eyes watching this disaster.

He unconsciously looked out for Wooyoung, as if to find those gentle hands that had supported him already so many times. The dragon was still at the window but had turned his body towards the scene. However, he was looking at the prince. San couldn't explain the small spark of jealousy that made his fingertips curl tighter around the hem of his sleeves as he saw the unreadable glimmer in the deity's eyes while he was looking at his older brother.

The priest diverted his attention from Wooyoung and his brother to grab one of the cups of tea on the table and hide behind it, retreating the furthest he could go until he was leaning on the wall as if he was an outsider to the group.

“The point is, I'm sure we can affirm that Seonghwa will not bring the jewel to the king," Yeosang finally spoke out again, smiling at San from where he had withdrawn himself in the room's back. "I will personally make sure of that."

The youngest of the Tempest brothers frowned a little, a question burning his lips – it had during the past lunar cycle. "Lord of the Universe, you already told me that you can't just force things, but wouldn't the jewel be safer with you?"

The Sun chuckled softly, and San flushed when he heard Mingi scoff as if he had asked something dumb. "Of course, these precious teaching don't include the weaknesses of the man you worship at the temple," he said. The priest glared at him but scoffed as well with his nose in the air when Yunho – his hair a similar flaming red as the witch's and a displeased frown creasing his eyebrows – hit him on the back of his head, drawing from the lanky and mischievous man a painful whine.

“The _Celestial Jewel_ was forged with a part of my core, one that has been separated from it for such a long time that it became poisonous," the god explained, but it only raised more questions in San's mind. Thankfully, Yeosang seemed to notice it. "So if I kept it too long with me, I'd grow greedy to use it, I created this jewel to never use it, ever, because my creations weren't supposed to go against me." The god sent a knowing look at Wooyoung, and the deity cleared his throat, turning once again to look through the window.

“Oh, that is why it was always kept so deep under the mountain,” San muttered understandingly.

“We need to decide how we're going to act now," Yunho intervened, from where he was still standing behind the witch. "We need to wait for them to act first when they lose patience is when they're going to be more vulnerable and messier," the healer said, and Wooyoung hummed in agreement.

“We also need to be careful with Hyunjin, he is the most dangerous among them,” the deity said, facing them and nimbly sitting on the window’s edge.

“Which leaves us time to find who to replace the Center and Eastern Kingdom’s rulers with, we can’t just take them down,” San spoke out, furrowing his eyebrows at the remaining of his tea inside his cup. He remembered the two young heirs who had assisted to his sacrifice with faces that had betrayed no inner turmoil.

“Dragons to tame the volcanoes, as well, we can’t let what happened to the Northern kingdom happen to these two kingdoms. The people of these lands are innocent souls,” Yunho added, with a firm tone. San smiled at the healer, gratefulness filling his body as he understood the people where the ones to matter the most in the healer’s mind, instead of politics.

“Um…” Everyone in the room focused their attention on Seonghwa, who tensed next to Yeosang, seemingly hesitating to voice out what he had tried to say, “the First Kingdom’s crowned prince can be trusted.”

They all stayed silent for a few seconds, and Seonghwa looked even more embarrassed. San sniffed, suspicious of his brother’s words. “Perhaps, but not you,” the priest made a cutting remark – and dared not to look at what emotion it painted on Seonghwa’s face, gritting his teeth when he heard a sharp exhale.

"Believe me or not, but he has often opposed his father's commands, consider him. It's not as if there was any other option."

“He’s not wrong,” Jongho affirmed – San bit his lips in shame, feeling as though the slightly scolding tone in the blind man’s voice was directed at him. “Someone to rule over the kingdoms, the heirs can do. Two new dragons, now that’s going to be harder.”

“Why two?" San asked, turning anxious eyes to Wooyoung to be met with his gaze already scrutinizing him. The deity sighed – the priest couldn't help but feel an unpleasant ache as he briefly could make out fatigue make his eyelids look heavier, but he blinked, and this look disappeared.

“Because only I can take Hyunjin down, but this old dragon is too old to bear the weight of any more scars," Wooyoung said jokingly as if it didn't affect him in the least. "After all, _someone_ very kindly stripped me of my immortality.”

San immediately understood that these words were for his brother, even though the dragon wasn't looking at Seonghwa. The inner turmoil that hadn't stopped to boil in his stomach ever since he had felt Wooyoung's lack of a heartbeat under his fingertips almost became unbearable until it threatened to spill past his lips.

“Lord of the Universe… pardon my disrespect, but can’t you give His Honor’s heart back?” he finally said, his voice a little shaky and his palms clammy.

Yeosang turned severe eyes to San, profoundly breathing in. "I can't. Some _wrongs_ cannot be _righted,_ ” he chuckled eventually, repeating his disciple’s previous words – San lowered his head, hunching his shoulders after sending a resentful look towards Seonghwa, who was avoiding his glare.

"So, what do we do?" San timidly asked.

“To sum everything up, now we wait,” Mingi said with a sigh. “When they go restless and act, it’s time – hopefully, it happens before our old dragon loses control over the volcano,” he concluded, and then looked San up and down, “and in the meantime, we will grow you a useful core,” the witch added with a raised brow. The priest flushed, once again reminded of his lack of training and power. Yunho hit the back of Mingi’s head again when he noticed the young disciple’s embarrassed scarlet blush.

“Now that it is all settled, you all can go back to your business,” Yeosang put an end to this meeting, pushing himself up from Hongjoong’s armchair.

Mingi got up, and San noticed him send an unreadable look to Yunho, and they were the first ones to leave the living room, closely followed by Jongho with Hongjoong on his shoulder, after gathering all the teacups onto the plate. San was lost in thought, a little preoccupied with what he had learned about Wooyoung.

For some reason, the thought that the dragon was in a bad state brought him great distress. But whether it was because the situation was only more urgent and the risks more significant, or because he knew Seonghwa was in more than one way involved in the urgency of the situation.

Absentmindedly, he noticed Wooyoung and Yeosang speaking in hushed voices a few steps away.

“San…” The priest startled and looked up to see Seonghwa, who had left the sun god’s side to join his, seemingly hesitant to come closer. “We should talk, don’t you think so?”

The younger tensed, unconsciously backing away and sending a distressed look at the two gods, who’s attention was still away from the brothers, and then inwardly scolded himself for seeking such comfort in them.

He avoided the prince’s gaze, unable to bear the weight of his anger and guilt towards him. “It won’t be necessary,” he simply said, quickly turning away.

San stormed out of the room, ignoring the way Seonghwa attempted to stop him and sent him a sad look, going straight to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him. Standing in the middle of the room, he squeezed his eyes shut and clasped his shaky hands together, taking a deep breath.

It seemed that the storm that had been raging inside him had now subdued into a sorrowful drizzle, making him all numb and leaving him even more tired. As if his turmoil had put salt on his wounds, his burns, bruises, and sore muscles started aching again.

Untying his robes, he undressed until he was only covered by thin inner clothes, carefully folding the precious fabric embroidered with his temple’s symbols. He bared his upper body, revealing the bandages wrapped around his chest and arms. It was actually still a little difficult for him to move around, to even lift his arms to undo his own bandages.

Perhaps he should ask Yunho some more pain-relieving beverage.

A knock at the door startled him, and he turned curious eyes towards it, his fingers still trying to unknot the tissue around his chest. "Yes?"

He hoped it wasn't Seonghwa, his heart beating loudly with anxiety, but Wooyoung entered instead, and an inexplicable wave of relief washed over San. The dragon seemed slightly dazed, making him furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

“Oh, Your Honor, what brings you here? Are you not going back to your mount?”

Wooyoung blinked up at San, opening his mouth, but saying nothing. There was a fleeting moment during which the priest only felt his confusion grow more significant as he waited for the deity to speak. Then he suddenly seemed to get his composure back, a beaming smile tugging his lips that only served to make the priest even more stunned.

“Let me help you tend to your wounds,” he finally said, closing the door behind as if nothing had happened. San let him reach out to undo his bandages, letting his arms fall to his sides, watching the deity take care of him with a flush spreading on his neck.

He shivered when Wooyoung eventually unwrapped the tissue, gulping ashamed as he felt his nipples harden when his skin was exposed to the room's coldness, diverting his eyes to fix his gaze on the flowers by his bed not to see what kind of expression the deity could be making.

He cleared his throat. “Will Your Honor be fine during the incoming lunar cycle?” San asked, with a muted voice, unable to ignore his worry for the deity.

Wooyoung's hands paused a second before going back to their task. "Are you worried for this old dragon?"

San briefly glanced at Wooyoung, unable to hold his amused gaze too long. “How could I not, as a devoted disciple?”

He heard him breathe a laugh and felt himself blush redder.

"I will be fine, even in my weakest state, I am stronger than what that stupid king thinks. Did Yunho give you any ointment?"

"Oh, yes, over here," San pointed at the desk, which was mostly empty except for a single glass jar filled with that same green paste that Wooyoung, at that time, turned into a palace physician, had applied to his wound.

The priest sat on his bed, embarrassed that a sacred being was taking care of him, but feeling too shy to refuse his help. Wooyoung lowered himself at San’s feet, and the latter recoiled. “Don’t kneel! Not before me!”

In his panic, San grabbed Wooyoung's shoulders, stopping his movements. Before realizing his inappropriate gesture and he flinched, quickly taking his hands back to his chest and stepping away, only for the back of his knees to bump against his bed and end up falling on the mattress with a surprised squeal.

San flushed even more from where he was sprawled on the bed, looking up without a word at Wooyoung's round eyes closing into crescent moons as a peal of loud and uncontrolled laughter took over him. The priest straightened up, gathering his hands over his lap and laying his palms flat on his knees, waiting for the deity to stop laughing at his ridiculous act. “I’m sorry,” he said with a small voice.

Wooyoung shook his head, getting back to his knees. "Let me act improperly and help you tend your wounds. After all, it is us, the ones you worship, who are the cause of your pain. The least I could do would be to kneel and earn your forgiveness."

San stayed silent, only able to speechlessly stare at him, who gave him a reassuring smile – which didn’t fail to make him feel warm in the best way, just like his gentleness had already done.

“What… what’s going to happen if Your Honor loses his powers?” he asked with a timid voice, letting Wooyoung take one of his wrists to massage ointment onto a bruise on his forearm.

“Nothing much, a new dragon will take over my throne.” Despite how unbothered he seemed, San still felt his worry increase in his guts, his lips twisting in an anxious pout. Wooyoung glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t I ask you to use my name instead of a title?”

The priest blinked, not having expected this change of subject. “It would be improper,” he flushed again, his eyes stuck on Wooyoung’s long and dark lashes, at the shadow they cast over the enticing mole under his right eye, at the way the corners of his mouth lifted with a snort.

“Is it not more disrespectful not to listen to a deity’s request?”

“A dragon’s name is sacred… only a few know about it. Fewer have the right use it,” San squeezed his hands into fists, “how could I use it, when even your friends won’t?”

“You know very well why I’m asking you.”

A lump grew in San's throat, and he curled up on himself, removing Wooyoung's access to his chest, where he had reached to apply the paste over his skin. The dragon didn’t insist, only looking more seriously at the human.

All colors left the priest's face, and his bottom lip shook.

“This dream… you also saw it, right?” the dragon said, confirming San’s suspicions, without any surprise. He looked down, electricity running through his veins and numbing his nerves as a curious spark clashed with a frightened fire inside him.

“Did you… did you love my brother?” he chose to answer instead, remembering the way the dragon had looked at Seonghwa earlier. The way he had touched his hair, his white bangs because they reminded him of his brother.

He was afraid to hear that the dragon and the prince had indeed been in love once.

The priest stared at Wooyoung when the latter stayed silent and was met with the same far-away glint that he had already seen shine in his reptilian pupils.

“I found him familiar. I waited for so many centuries to meet the soul fate paired me with, and something about him felt like what I had been waiting for,” Wooyoung said, getting up to sit next to San on the bed.

Even though the dragon’s body heat was incredibly high, the priest’s skin was covered in goosebumps. “Familiar?”

“The light inside you two is very alike.”

San furrowed his eyebrows, bringing a hand over his heart, where it ached much as he heard those words. He couldn't find joy in himself – a few weeks ago, perhaps, now it disgusted him to be similar to the one who he felt had betrayed him.

"I… I am terrified," San admitted, sending a distraught look at the dragon. "I never questioned my existence, but so many things feel wrong. The library pavilion at the temple is vast, yet I've never once read a book about how harsh the outside world is.”

The priest sniffled, wiping with trembling fingers a tear just as it spilled on his cheekbone. Wooyoung grabbed his hand, his palm hotter and softer than anything he had known, attracting San’s attention back on him. The dragon was scrutinizing the human’s face with an unreadable gaze.

"My master told me so much about the body and mental strength, but it's all too painful, too scary," San's voice broke as he hiccuped, and a sob shook his shoulders. The other man silently cupped his cheeks, drying the few tears soaking the priest's lashes, and made him look up at him.

“I am sorry fate chose such a gentle soul to bear this weight," Wooyoung said, smiling sadly. "I'm sure they do not teach how cruel fate or the Sun are with the poor lives that have been put between their hands."

San wordlessly put his own hands over the dragon’s, hesitant, apprehensive, timid but curious.

From the first time, the deity had touched him, and then each time after, a distant and fragile feeling had flowed between them, but now that San finally forced himself to face this truth, that feeling felt incredibly more potent, taking his breath away.

“No, I never loved prince Seonghwa, I was only desperate to find the one I had been longing for.”

San’s lips parted, but no word left his mouth. His stomach was twisting, both ready to give in to the warm of these dangerous but comforting palms and scared to actually act on what he knew that bond pulling them towards each other was.

"I am unworthy…" San couldn't help but argue, licking his lips – he shivered when he noticed that the dragon's slit pupils briefly fell on his mouth. "How could we be fated, you're a god, and I’m…”

“The most luminous human to ever cross my path in an eternity.”

San was ready to protest, but Wooyoung’s words beat him to the punch. For a moment, they only stared into each other’s eyes, the priest looking for more comfort, and the dragon in awe.

“I have never felt anything close to this,” San murmured, closing his eyes but leaning onto Wooyoung’s scorching hot palms – or was it his cheeks that were burning so much? “I don’t know anything about this, love, affection,” he unconsciously tightened his hold around the dragon’s wrists, “How could I be worthy when your heart is still suffering from my blood’s wrongdoings?”

He felt Wooyoung’s breath hitting his face, ruffling his black and white bangs on his forehead. When he opened his eyes, their faces were so close the tip of their noses were brushing; irrationally, he wanted to taste the deity’s pink mouth.

"Would you allow me to show you how worthy you are?" Wooyoung asked, his sweet voice had become hoarse. San nodded, lowering his eyes to watch the way the dragon's lips parted – the tip of his fingers tingled with fear and desire.

The next second, the deity pressed a chaste kiss onto the priest's untouched mouth, and San's heart threatened to explode inside his ribcage from the fulfillment that immediately bloomed inside his being. San dug his nails inside Wooyoung's skin, where he was still holding his wrists as if trying to find one last grasp on reality, he squeezed his eyes shut, his guts churning from that unknown way he was being touched.

For the first time in the past half lunar cycle, or perhaps even in the many years he had spent stripped of a family, San felt at peace, whole. In a way he had thought he could only feel while listening to the mers' gentle voices, wrapped in the arms of an unknown body or following a sweet voice inside his dreams.

San gasped against Wooyoung's mouth when one of the latter's hands left his cheek to sneak behind his back and only then when he was pressed against his muscular body, he remembered his state of undress, startling and breaking the kiss to get up and back away, his face entirely red.

Wooyoung was in no better state, his breath harsh and looking up dazed at the priest.

A new wave of fright took over San, as the dragon gently stretched his hands out to hold San's, in a pleading manner. "Can you allow yourself to call me by my name now?"

The priest shook his head, looking aghast. "Your Honor, you don't understand, I can't be your soulmate. Not when I'm a mere human, and my life is so small compared to yours."

*

In a luxurious, dimly lit salon, two kings were sitting around a small ebony table. If the monarch of the Golden Kingdom looked young, his beauty ice-like despite the warm tones of his skin and the yellow, as shiny as his country’s gold mines, robes that covered him; the Deep-Waters Family's head was older, even more imposing and his frown revealed all his unkindness. The main difference between these two kings was indeed the way one hid his nefarious schemes behind a pleasant and generous act, charming everyone with his youthful and misleading beauty. At the same time, the other showed without holding back his unadulterated thirst for power and control.

They kept silent while a eunuch poured a rose-scented brew into porcelain cups.

“I didn’t expect you to come alone,” the host said, reaching with long and thin fingers his teacup and taking a sip from it, gracefully closing his eyes.

The older man grunted, his mouth twitching under his white beard.

“And I expected you to have obtained the jewel,” the second kingdom’s monarch said, laying on the younger king blue eyes that reflected the torrential seas surrounding his country. But far from seeming scared in any way of this man, who’s violence could be felt in each one of his strict looking wrinkles, the host only took his time to swallow his tea, pleasantly smiling. His smile was much different from the sardonic one that twisted his face when he lost control over a prey or even the one he showed to his naive subjects.

He snorted. "I have no worry. Prince Seonghwa shall come scrambling back with it. He has often tried to betray me, and each time he came back begging for forgiveness.”

"The Northern Kingdom is still such trouble, even after so many years since its ruin. It’s a good thing their own dragon went rogue and led it to its doom.”

“Please, Your Majesty, you know better than anyone that humans are the vicious creatures, not us, dragons," a voice answered the old king. Both monarchs raised their eyes towards the lean man who had appeared in the middle of the salon and was proceeding to kneel with them at the table. “Excuse my lateness.”

The Eastern Kingdom’s ruling dragon Hyunjin exuded an entirely different aura than the two men. Honey hair framed his face, giving him a softer air than the king with whom he shared the power over a kingdom, but their eyes a similar blue. And next to their host’s calculated and delicate movements, he seemed nonchalant.

“I’ve been told Wooyoung is siding with the Sun, how hypocrite of him.”

Hyunjin, contrarily to the two monarchs sitting with their backs straight, was leaning on the table, a knee brought to his chest as he rested his cheek against his palm. The Golden King’s eyebrows imperceptibly twitched, ever obsessed with order. He ignored him yet, his only choice being to wait for Seonghwa to return with the jewel that would allow him to control both the Deep-Water and his kingdom’s ruling dragons.

“I have gathered both of you because following my earlier meeting with Seonghwa's lost brother, I think we need to act."

“What do you suggest?” the dragon raised an eyebrow at the Golden Family’s patriarch.

“If my suspicions are correct, Wooyoung and two Tempest brothers have the jewel, so we will make Seonghwa come running faster.”

“And how?”

“Our dear prince wouldn’t be able to watch another loved one get hurt, right?”

All three of them stayed silent for a few seconds. Hyunjin, with a swift hand gesture, poured tea inside his teacup without even touching the teapot.

“So you want to hurt the little brother?" he asked, taking a sip and blinking lazy reptilian eyes at the king. "No, I think we're missing something." He smiled obnoxiously but didn't elaborate further.

“If you have something to say, speak or just stay quiet,” the dragon’s king retorted with a dry tone, which made Hyunjin breathe out a chuckle.

“Where was this brother all this time? And why did Seonghwa just find him?”

The Golden Kingdom’s patriarch narrowed his eyes at the blonde, clenching his jaw – not appreciating the deity's condescending tone very much.

“I’d stake my immortality on the little brother being a disciple in the water realm.”

The older king tightened his fist around his cup until it shattered, while their host’s facade was broken by a growing frown creasing his black and straight eyebrows. Hyunjin's smile grew broader.

“So even if the Sun wasn’t involved when Seonghwa invaded his temple, now that you roughed up his underling there’s no way he isn’t aware of what’s going on.”

“Meaning…” The Deep-Waters kingdom's patriarch still seemed two seconds away from strangling the deity, but his mouth's corner had stopped twitching in frustration to be replaced with curiosity.

“Meaning that it won't be so easy to get Seonghwa to give us the jewel or even touch the little brother…" Hyunjin paused to finish his tea in a large gulp, "but let's say they willingly came here thinking they have the upper hand, the Sun wouldn't be able to keep us from touching it, would he?"

The dragon chuckled, winking at the two men, who exchanged an unreadable glance.

Behind the salon's closed doors, a youth was anxiously frowning and biting his lips, a cold shiver running down his spine as the two kings and the deity’s voices plotted their vile and shameful conspiracy. “Daehwi?”

The young crowned prince startled, turning with all his robe's mesh ribbons twirling around him, and he faced his young sister who was looking up at him with big doe eyes. He forced a smile he hoped reassuring, before kneeling before the small princess.

“What are you doing?”

“I was looking for brother, but he isn’t back yet, do you want to go see the flowers with me?” the youth answered, taking her hand and breathing a soft laugh as she happily agreed.

He couldn’t help but send a last anxious glance towards the salon’s door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explanations;
> 
> now that i have to explain i feel like I have nothing to say ah! well first of all, at first this project was a bts project that was entirely plotted out, but after I turned it into an ateez project like.... 2 weeks after starting to stan them, I was too excited and started to write it WAY TOO QUICKLY. so now the characters of course changed, but also the plot, so now I'm adapting the plot as I'm writing it, so it fits the characters better and to fill the plotholes it has made so yeah! a gigantic mess. it made me feel greatly insecure and bad bc in case u didn't know. I'm a control freak. and a perfectionist. and I have incredibly ridiculously high standards for myself. SO ONE DAY suddenly I was like no that's bad af and quite literally started ignoring this fic and sulking in my corner. but because I have a conscience I decided to read what I had already written again and continue the fic again. WHAT I NOTICED WAS that yes it needed a lot of editing, but overall Not That Bad. so yeah I decided to just accept this fic despite how lacking it is, and finish it, and probably make better it once it's done and I can objectively look at all the things I did wrong and can improve. 
> 
> in the meantime I think I'm not doing such a bad job at making sense of the mess going on inside my head and hopefully still make it enjoyable for readers even if not perfect
> 
> please accept my honest work
> 
> I HOPE U ALL (the few readers who got interested in this niche of fic) ENJOY THIS VERY LATE CHAPTER leave me a nice comment ok thanks anyways bye muah
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/mingiopom)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/etoilephilante)

**Author's Note:**

> 1) i tried to mix different types of religions i know in this made up religion, because i didn't want to force completely eurocentric aesthetics into my fic, but i did want to separate this universe from the real one, anyways. ethnicity, religion, culture, etc is not the same as the ones on our actual earth, even if of course inspired by them.
> 
> 2) which kind of leads us to the last names. no one has one. it's also because seonghwa and san turned out to be brothers and well! they don't have the same last name. i changed last names with titles (you can see it with the way the high priest.esse.s are called i guess, the titles refer to family or land owned, so the wealthy usually are the ones to have titles. 
> 
> 3) while writing my first chapter i realised our time system could Not work, so i had a massive breakdown before i finally figured a way to make something that look at least a bit coherent. so basically :  
> \- earth has one side always facing the sun, which basically means that it spins on itself once a year (the time it take to rotate around the sun), so this is a year. i've decided to call it like we do because i am : lazy  
> \- a month is a lunar cycle, inspired by the real lunar calendar except that well, it's not the same bc for the people of this fic the moon never changes forms. so i have decided it's determined by moon's proximity to earth. also a month is called a lunar cycle  
> \- a day is a lunar rotation (around earth), it has 24 hours but they don't count it like that, they divide it half with the lunar hours (daytime, when the moon is on the earth realm's side) and the sleeping hours (night-time, when the moon's on the water realm's side). and then hours are determined depending on moon's placement in the sky.  
> \- hours, minutes and seconds are otherwise the same.  
> did all that make sense, scientifically wise? absolutely not and i probably made cry some scientific minds! but i'm sure it looked scientific enough for most of u that i lost u enough for u to decide u will give me the benefit of the doubt!!
> 
> Thank u for reading, i hope u will keep enjoying my fic. 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/mingiopom)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/etoilephilante)


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